


Shared Experience

by Scappodaqui, stripyjamjar, tinzelda



Series: Scraps [12]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: A Snarky British Tail Gunner, British Politics, British Slang, Bucky tells stories about Steve, Butchered British Place Names, Competitive Bucky Barnes, Competitive blowjobs, Darts, Dirty Talk, Eating Jam, Flirting, Historical Accuracy, Historically Accurate Threesome, Jealous Bucky Barnes, Jealous Steve Rogers, Kink Negotiation, M/M, OCs named Bill, POV Alternating, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Outsider, POV Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Puns & Word Play, Real RAF Squadrons, Rimming, Steve gets lost in London, Super Soldier Sandwich, Supersoldier Refractory Period, Tag-Team Suckjobs, They're getting better at dirty talk, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Threeway Flirting, Viceroy Court, Voyeurism, Winston Churchill - Freeform, or thereabouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-02 10:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5245283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scappodaqui/pseuds/Scappodaqui, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stripyjamjar/pseuds/stripyjamjar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinzelda/pseuds/tinzelda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>You should have heard the guy we played darts with the other night, he talked so fast and funny like Danny Kaye but British sort of only Northern (that is Scots? Or like scots. But not). it was great, he even got Steve to loosen his collar and have a good time.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>--from Bucky's letter to Mrs. Barnes</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There was the scuff of a boot heel on an upstanding clod of grass, followed by a thudding misstep.

Then, softly: “Oh, jeez.”

The listener’s name was Will. He was slumped under a tree. And he was, in all honesty, a bit tetchy that day.

He opened his eyes and was completely unprepared for the sight of red leather.

_What on earth…?_

Will opened his eyes fully and ran them up from the boots. From the less-than-promising start, he had to admit that the prospect swiftly brightened as he did so. _A real strapper_ , he thought - and then wrinkled his nose. Ugh, he sounded almost like his father.

“I’m sorry,” said the man in front of him. “Didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

He looked a little ruffled: clearly he’d caught Will’s expression. _Whoops_.

“Not a problem,” Will replied, giving him a languid smile. “I was just,” he added thoughtfully, shifting into a more comfortable position and squinting upwards, “trying to work out what you’re meant to be.”

“Huh?”

All right, perhaps he was being cruel. He gestured towards the explosion of red, white and blue. “You look like somebody stitched you into a Union Jack.”

Comprehension dawned on the man’s face and he glanced down at himself. “Oh!” He turned to face Will and unfolded his arms. “More like stars and stripes, actually.”

To be fair to him, Will was only distracted by the breadth of the man’s shoulders for an instant before he swallowed and shook himself out of it. “Just a minute,” he said slowly. “You’re not… no, you are, aren’t you? You’re dressed as the feller from the comics.”

The man grimaced. “I prefer Steve,” he said, then added, “Rogers” almost as an afterthought.

Will stuck out his hand, yanking himself to his feet when Steve took it. “Will Appleby,” he said brightly. Steve had a good grip. Firm. “Patriotic costume aside, you look awfully like just another lost Yank to me.”

Steve gave him a rueful smile. “That obvious, huh?”

“You develop an eye for these things around here.” Will absentmindedly corrected his stance: feet a hips’ width apart and planted. He tilted his head. “So where are you _hoping_ I’ll tell you you are?”

“Viceroy Court?” said Steve - and he did sound hopeful, rather charmingly so.

“You’re just around the corner. Here, I’ll walk you there.” It was a friendly offer. He was being friendly. And that’s _all_.

Will scooped his cap from where he’d abandoned it on the grass and positioned it jauntily over his hair, shaking his head at himself as they started walking. “So,” he said easily. “What brings the infamous Captain America to this neck of the woods?”

Steve’s mouth did a funny twisting motion. “I’m meeting a friend.”

“Actually I meant London in general, but never mind, we can talk about your friend.” Will said, before catching a glimpse of the flush at Steve’s neckline and deciding to go easy on him. He opened his mouth but Steve spoke before he could say another word.

“That’s classified.” He sounded so drawn all of a sudden that Will paused to look at him. Next thing, however, Steve was smirking.

“Oh – you – you’re having me on.” Will laughed, glad he hadn’t misjudged this serious-faced faux-captain despite his questionable footwear decisions. Laughter made him daring and he playfully bumped their shoulders together. It was a move that had worked wonders in the past, but there was usually a lick more alcohol involved.

(Steve barely seemed to notice the contact; he was built like a damn _mountain_.)

“Viceroy Court, then,” Will continued, raising an eyebrow. “I have to admit, you’re rather taller than the average cadet.”

“No no, I’m not here for flight training,” Steve replied, shaking his head. “I get horrible motion sickness - or at least, I used to.” He bit his lip mid-sentence and cut himself off. “It’s just where I said I’d meet Bucky.”

“Bucky?” Will tried in vain to hold back the tease in his tone. “That’s a real name?”

“It’s his nickname,” said Steve, with the weariness of a man who had explained the same thing a few too many times. But then he grinned. “He’s my best friend. We’re over here together with our squad.”

“Wailing Commandos, right?”

“Howling,” Steve corrected him automatically before registering Will’s smirk. He blushed again; Will didn’t think he’d ever come across anyone who turned scarlet this easily. It made him mischievous in all the ways in which he knew he shouldn’t indulge.

They were passing a fenced field. Within the perimeter, a handful of air cadets were milling about like cows put out to pasture.

“Do you see that little flash in their caps?” Will asked, nodding over to them.

Steve peered. “The white thing? Uh-huh. Shows they’re still in training, right?”

Will nodded, had a brief internal battle with his better judgement, and then said: “The COs tell the local girls that it’s got another meaning.”

Steve looked at him blankly.

“So that the girls won’t want anything to do with them,” Will continued, eyeing Steve’s face. “So they won’t be a, er, distraction.”

“Wait, they say it means they’re…” Steve performed some sort of complicated hand movement that was entirely lost on Will, who was busy being pleased with the gloriously pervasive blush he’d elicited.

“VD,” he said simply, and Steve dropped his hands back to his sides.

“Oh.” If anything, his blush actually deepened.

“Hang on,” said Will. “What did _you_ think I meant?”

Steve just shook his head and sped up his pace until Will was forced to take uncomfortably wide strides just to keep up. He saw a flash of something familiar in Steve’s eyes. _Well, I’ll be damned_ , he thought. _America’s hero_.

For a few moments, Will wrestled with himself, shooting quick sidelong glances towards this man who he’d only just met. He curled his upper lip and chewed on it, wincing when he caught it between his teeth a fraction too sharply. Steve’s face had shifted towards closed-off wariness and the least Will could do was alleviate his discomfort.

And if the situation revealed itself to be nothing but a giant cock-up, then at least Steve only knew his name. All right, he was in uniform, but so were thousands of other men in this city. Blimey, he wasn’t even stationed in London. He was as safe as he _could_ be, given his circumstances.

Will decided to take his chances. Stopping suddenly, he tugged on Steve’s elbow, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the stiff fabric. “Nothing to worry about,” he said, friendly but firm. “We both have more important things to concern ourselves with just now.”

Steve stared at him as though he’d just sprouted a second head, so Will added: “The _both_ of us,” and met his gaze. Not entirely certain whether it was understanding he read in Steve’s eyes, or just well-handled confusion.

Will realised he was still holding Steve’s arm and he released it. Well, he’d given it a shot. Anything more obvious and he’d be in dangerous territory. He gave Steve an uncertain smile and resumed their pace, keeping it slow until Steve fell into step beside him. There were a few moments of uneasy silence and Will had just about resigned himself to walking the rest of the way without another word when Steve suddenly said, “You don’t sound English.”

His tone was steady, which was reassuring. Will blew out his breath. “I should hope not,” he said. “I’m from _oop Noarth_.” He let his natural accent draw out the low vowels for a moment. “Kinross-shire born and bred, I’ll have you know - me family are fierce highland Scotsmen.” Tapering up into a high Scottish twang with the last three words: _feerce highlahnd Scoatsmen_.

“You oughtta be on the stage,” Steve said, not bothering to disguise the admiration in his voice.

Will snorted. “Reckon they’d take me when there are magnificent creatures like you wandering around unsupervised?”

He was expecting another blush but Steve just said mildly, “You’ve never heard me butcher an Irish accent.”

“Irish, eh?”

“Well, distantly.” Steve looked Will up and down with honest interest. “So if you’re not a VD-infected cadet, what is it you do?”

Will laughed. “Me, I’m just down here on leave,” he said. He gestured vaguely at his muted blue uniform, turning the plane of his torso towards Steve. Raising his eyebrows, he spread his arms in a _see?_ gesture, enjoying the way Steve’s eyes followed the movement. “I’m RAF, based up near Bourne.”

Steve frowned and shook his head slightly.

“East Anglia?”

Now his face just looked oddly pained.

“A few hours north of here on the train,” Will explained kindly.

Steve smiled. “Well why didn’t you _say_ that in the _first_ place?” Hamming it up just enough to be clear: the intonation pitch for pitch the same as that of the guard at the gate in the _Wizard of Oz_.

Will’s head jerked towards him. “Of all places, I think you’re least likely to fit in at the Emerald City.”

“I guess.” Steve rubbed absently at the blue sleeve of his uniform. Will watched seriousness pass over his face like the shadow of a wind-chased cloud: he wondered whether he’d perhaps said the wrong thing. A moment later, however, Steve glanced ahead and said: “Thought you said we were only around the corner.”

“I was being tactful in order to to leave your pride unblemished.”

Steve laughed – oh _damn_ , it was a nice laugh. A ripple of a laugh. Will stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and smothered a sigh.

“How generous of you,” Steve said. “I can’t seem to find anything in London.”

 _Then you’re clearly looking in all the wrong places_ , Will itched to reply, but he managed not to. Instead he plumped for the much more innocuous: “It’s not made any easier, of course, by Jerry popping up every other night and rearranging some of the roads.”

Steve shot him a glance that almost seemed… well, analytical. Will supposed he just wasn’t used to the way many Londoners spoke so casually about the bombing of their city.

They’d survived the Blitz. People who could come out the other side of that could weather anything the Luftwaffe could hurl at them.

“I guess not,” said Steve, his tone thoughtful. “We haven’t been here long enough to have seen an air raid.”

“Oh, you don’t _see_ air raids,” Will said, and Steve raised his eyebrows. “You _hear_ them. Well,” he corrected, “first of all, you get the sirens. But then they shut off and you can work out what’s coming from the sound. Look lively, we’re here.”

Steve peered up at the building: rows upon rows of windows. The front doors stood opposite them, blue-clad recruits occasionally scurrying in or out.

“Oh,” Steve said. “Thank you.” He was visibly hesitating so Will decided to stick around.

“Fancy some company while you wait?” he asked.

“If you wouldn’t mind.” Steve smiled at him, warm and honest, and for goodness’ sake, it was like being bathed in sunshine. Will scrubbed a deflective hand over the red curls sticking out from under his cap and nodded towards a nearby bench.

“Shall we take a seat?”

“Sure. And you can explain what you meant about the way an air raid sounds.”

Will grinned as they sat, and shook his head. “Give it another week and you’ll be so thoroughly sick of them you’ll wish you’d never asked.”

“No, really, I’m interested.” Steve rested his elbows on his knees and his expression was so earnest that Will gave in.

“All right,” he said. “The sirens shut off and for a bit there’s nowt but silence. Then – depending on what mood Goering’s in – there’s either a low sort of rumble, which means lots of engines in formation, or a humming sound, like a fly in your ear.”

“So what’s the difference?”

Will laughed, although this time it wasn’t funny at all. “The difference is that you want one to stop and the other to just keep going.”

“Oh,” said Steve. “V-1s?”

Will nodded. “Heard of them, I take it?”

“A little.”

“Right-o. Well, like I say, if one of those buggers is above you, you pray it’s going to keep on flying and let you live another night. If the hum cuts out, you stick your head between your knees and hope God’s feeling kind.”

Steve looked horrified. “And they’re sending those towards _civilians?”_

Will leaned forwards and looked over towards the trees. Swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and said grimly, “Not if we can help it.”

“What can you do against rockets that size?”

“Plenty. Anti-aircraft guns, like the ones we just walked past. Barrage balloons - only the bastards have started putting wire cutters on the V-1 wings. Still,” Will added in a grasp for a silver lining, “it all helps, I suppose.”

“So what do _you_ do?” Steve asked suddenly, and if Will had been any other man he might have blushed. Thankfully, however, he wasn’t that easily swayed.

“Me, I just sit in the back of a Lanc and fire at whatever they tell me to,” he replied. Perhaps the way he punctuated it with a shrug was a touch performative, but nobody had ever accused Will of being a shrinking violet.

“In - in the _back?”_ Steve said, a puzzled furrow appearing between his eyebrows, and Will nodded.

“Have you never seen a Lancaster up close?” he asked, continuing before Steve could speak, “They’re the big craft, four engines, twin tail.” Twisting his thumbs together, Will splayed his hands and bent the ends of his fingers to demonstrate the shape. “I sit in a little turret between the tail fins, just here.” He waggled his thumbs.

“Wow, okay.” Steve leaned back and took a deep breath. “That sounds – well, terrifying.”

This time around, Will’s shrug had no ulterior motives: it was simply a way of grounding his frame in physical movement. He pressed his feet to the floor as though to remind himself that it was still there. “You’re not wrong,” he managed after a beat too long to be comfortable. “Living on borrowed time, me. A handful of sorties is what the estimates give us tail gunners.”

“How many have you–?” Steve began, before drawing back. “No, I – forget I asked, I shouldn’t’ve–”

“Seventeen,” said Will flatly. Then he shook himself and forced a smile. “It’s fine, you’re welcome to ask.” Nevertheless, his next breath held a slight shudder. “Yeah. Seventeen.”

“Wow,” Steve repeated, softer this time. He sounded staggered.

For a while, they both gazed across the road to where a line of trees bordered the park proper. A single cadet hurried past them, one hand clamping his cap down onto his head.

Steve caught Will’s expression.

“Not so long since you were one of them, huh?”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Will replied. “I trained here, point of fact. Was billeted” –he craned around  on the bench and pointed to the building behind them– “in one of those rooms up there.”

“Wait, so did you – was that when you found out about the – the VD thing?” Steve’s eyes twinkled.

Will found himself mimicking Steve’s expression: his grin was infectious. “Yep,” he said, basking in Steve’s obvious amusement. “Though of course,” he continued, lowering his voice just enough to lend it a conspiratorial undertone, “I wasn’t exactly in _much_ danger of being distracted by the local gals.”

He was riding the ragged edge of disaster here, he knew it, but he couldn’t be sure that Steve had picked up on his dropped hints from earlier, as flagrant as they’d seemed. And his suspicions were confirmed when Steve coloured and stared at him with abruptly wide eyes.

“Oh, I – you – I see what you – oh.” His hands dropped to his knees and he suddenly seemed fascinated by the grooves in the pavement beneath his ridiculous scarlet boots.

Will, therefore, saw Steve’s friend approaching before Steve did. Unconsciously, he sat up straighter on the bench as he watched Bucky – the way his eyes were trained on Steve, this _must_ be Bucky – pace across the grass towards them. There was a careless, loping quality to his gait: the long-limbed grace of a man attuned to his own body, and if that had been all then Will might have written him off almost immediately.

But there was something fierce about him, too – not just the bland military bullishness that flourished in these times, but something altogether more unnerving. His hands were casually hidden in his jacket pockets but his shoulders were held taut, at odds with the rest of him. As he moved closer, Will could make out his features and he had to admit, Steve had good taste. The man was extraordinary. His dark hair was pushed back from his face in a manner that could only be contrived and his gaze, when it alighted on the pair of them, was hard as flint.

 _Gosh_ , thought Will in spite of his better judgement. _What are **you**?_

They surveyed each other warily as Bucky crossed the road. Will’s gaze dropped to his mouth and instantly he wished he hadn’t looked. He turned back towards Steve instead, wondering what celestial bodies had aligned to bring _these_ two together.

But then Steve glanced up and Will felt himself smile, because the way Steve’s face lit up explained everything.

“Hey, Buck,” he began the moment Bucky was within earshot, but Bucky spoke over him – casually, as though he’d already opened his mouth and it was, in fact, _Steve_ who had interrupted.

“Hey, Steve.”  He nodded at Will, eyes lingering on him for a beat, then looked back toward Steve. “Sorry I’m late. I was trying to find Baker Street and I got all turned around.  Who’re you?”  

Will had stood smoothly and was holding out one hand. He refused to allow himself to be ruffled, despite the calculated coolness emanating from Bucky in waves. “Will Appleby,” he said, and then just to be contrite, “97 Squadron, Pathfinders.” He cocked his head, concluding that if he was going to put on a show, he was going to do it correctly. “And you are?”

“Bucky Barnes.” Bucky shook Will’s hand affably enough and then gave him a brief, disarming flash of a smile.

Beside them, Steve got up. “Will was nice enough to show me where this building was,” he said, while Will himself was momentarily distracted by the fact that the pair of them rather towered over him. Steve alone he could fathom, but in tandem – deliberately or not, they _loomed_.

Bucky looked at him and Will said quickly, “Well, pathfinder by name, pathfinder by nature, I suppose.” He summoned a tentative smile and was rewarded with the sight of any residual hardness in Bucky’s mouth vanishing.

“Oh, you fly a plane?” Now Bucky’s face had entirely shifted. He was smiling, and Will revised his unconscious estimate of his age down a few years.

“No, I’m just a tail-end Charlie, as they say.”  Will pointed to the single-winged flying brevet, with the letters AG – air gunner – on his uniform.  “Tail gunner,” he explained.  “If I were a pilot, this bit would have two wings, but I’m aircrew, so just the one.”

“One wing,” Bucky said thoughtfully, rocking back on his heels and looking down at Will through heavy-lidded eyes. “Wouldn’t that mean you’d be flying around in circles?”

“It’s a good job I’m not in charge of the flightpath, then.”

Bucky grinned at him.  “Thought you were a pathfinder?”

“Only when I’m feeling generous.”

“He was very generous,” Steve said, smiling at Bucky in a quietly familiar way.

“I’ll bet,” Bucky said. He flicked a glance in Will’s direction, but it was evaluative, rather than unfriendly the way it had seemed at first. “So,” he continued, raising an eyebrow, “when you _are_ feeling generous, what exactly do you do?”

“You mean pathfinding?”

Bucky nodded. “Gotta admit, it sounds simple enough.” His smirk was still hesitant around the edges, as though he wasn’t yet certain how Will would react to being ribbed.

“Nothing simpler,” Will said, grinning as the tendons in Bucky’s neck lost some of their tautness. “We just fly in while it’s nice and quiet, before Jerry’s had a chance to rouse himself, and we light up the place brighter than your Independence Day celebrations.”

He could feel Steve’s serious gaze on his face so he shrugged and said, “Then we scarper before the rest of the squadron turns up.” Steve was astute enough to grasp the reasons Will made light of the situation, he was certain, but that didn’t mean he was necessarily above making a comment Will wouldn’t appreciate. Sometimes it felt as though the seventeen tally marks scratched onto the fuselage of his Lancaster may as well have been branded across his forehead, each one not a success but another chip away at the survival odds of their next raid.

“See, Steve?” said Bucky pointedly. “No need to look so starstruck. Piece of cake, right Will?”

Will stared at him for a beat before breaking into a genuine smile. Whatever the reason, whatever had cast that shadow over Bucky’s face, it meant that he _understood_.

Bucky glanced at his watch. “We gotta get going if we’re gonna see any good stuff before it gets dark.”

“Mr Holmes _is_ well known for taking his supper at an early hour,” said Will, injecting an upper-class twang into his words.

Steve looked between them both and rolled his eyes. He nudged Bucky with one elbow, easy and familiar. “We’ve got stuff to plan, too, don’t forget.”

Bucky just groaned in answer. “Steve. We’ve got a day _off_.” He caught Will’s eye.

“All work no play, eh?” Will ventured, smirking.

“You have no idea,” Bucky replied with mock-darkness.

“I am _not_ ,” put in Steve, folding his arms across his chest, “that bad.”

Bucky just raised his eyebrows at Will. “It takes a little convincing to get him to have fun. It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it--have fun, I mean. I could use a hand, if you want to join us sometime.”

Will felt his face drop in surprise; he whipped his head round to face Steve, who had, as he suspected, paled, and who was staring at Bucky with something unreadable in his expression. Will met Bucky’s eyes briefly. “Is that so?”

“Will, it’s not – he doesn’t mean–” Steve sounded panicked.

“Blimey,” said Will, in spite of himself. The two of them may have been a package deal, but not only could he work with that, he might in fact – he swallowed hard against the images his mind conjured up – quite enjoy it. “I, er–” Shaking himself out of that distracting headspace, he took another look at the frankly horror-struck expression on Steve’s face and sighed in resignation. “Must be tricky,” he said, mainly to Bucky, “keeping everyone happy.” Fishing in his back pocket, he dug out a small card. “I’m lodging here for the week. If you ask for me on the blower, they’ll put you through.”

For a second he hesitated, holding the card out into the charged space between the two of them. Then Bucky reached out an arm and took it. Their fingers brushed but didn’t linger, and Will tilted his chin and tried not to let his thoughts run away with him at the idea of what those fingers were capable of.

Still. He wasn’t one to insinuate himself between a steady couple who were quite clearly in a state of disagreement as to whether he’d be welcome. Will suppressed a sigh and looked up at Steve, whose eyes in turn were still on Bucky. It looked like they were having an entirely silent, perhaps telepathic, conversation.  Finally, and with Will pretending not to notice, Bucky mouthed something at Steve, whose frown smoothed out a little. Bucky turned back to Will with a smile.  

“We’ll call you up,” he said.  “We just gotta see the sights first. Can’t miss Big Ben.”

“Can’t, indeed,” said Will, returning the smile and stepping back. He stood and watched the pair of them make their way down the road; in his hands he rotated his hat, running his thumb thoughtfully round and round the inside rim.


	2. Chapter 2

“Steve, wait up,” Bucky said.

Steve felt like he couldn’t stop.

“You’re mad? Because of what I said to Will?”

Steve wasn’t angry. Not exactly, but he felt somehow out of control, like he could run to the ends of the earth and back with energy to spare.

When Steve finally stopped and turned, he had to wait while Bucky caught up with him. He walked slowly, his hands in his pockets.

“You were so . . . _casual,”_ Steve said.

 _If you want to join us sometime_ , Bucky’d said. That was fine for meeting up in a pub for a drink, but _this_?

“Well, yeah.” Bucky tilted his head to one side. “It’s supposed to be fun. No big deal.”

“What about being careful?” Steve glanced up and down the block. There was no one close enough to overhear, but he felt so damn conspicuous in his uniform. “We don’t even know him.”

“C’mon, he was obviously okay with it.”

“Did you see his face?”

“He was surprised, yeah, but in a good way.” Bucky strolled up to where Steve was standing. He threw his arm over Steve’s shoulders and said quietly, “He was flirting with you. Like crazy.”

Steve shook Bucky’s arm off, then scanned the street again. “He was not.”

Bucky shrugged and started walking. Steve caught up with a few long strides.

“And even if he was,” Steve mumbled, “I didn’t flirt back.”

Bucky chuckled. “It’s just . . . He was a nice guy. Fun. And he sure liked you. It seemed like you liked him too.” While Steve was still casting around for something to say, Bucky continued. “Or is that the problem? Cause we could find someone you like better.”

“No, Will was—”

Steve turned in time to see a sly smile spread across Bucky’s face.

“Will was _what_?” he said.

“He was fine.”

“ _Fine_?”

It wasn’t comfortable to think about, but now Steve couldn’t help it: was he attracted to Will?

“He was easy to talk to,” Steve offered.

Bucky’s smile turned fond. “Talk? That’s what you want to do? I woulda thought you get enough _talk_ from me.”

Steve looked away so he wouldn’t smile back.

“But I mean it. We could find somebody else. In fact . . . I don’t know, I thought maybe you’d rather a dame since you—”

“No.” The word was out of Steve’s mouth before he’d even thought about it. Was that what Bucky really wanted? But he looked relieved that Steve had rejected the idea so quickly.

“It’s not that there’s anything wrong with Will,” Steve said.

“Okay, if you like Will then what’s the problem?”

Steve could feel Bucky’s eyes on him but kept walking.

“Come on, we’ve talked about it,” Bucky said. “And the letters to Frank.”

“Will you keep your voice down?”

“Steve, hold up. Slow down.”

Bucky’s hand hooked into Steve’s elbow and pulled him to a stop. He hadn’t realized how quickly he’d been walking. Sure, they’d teased about it and even used the idea to get each other hot and bothered, but it didn’t seem like the kind of thing people actually _did_.

Bucky put a hand on each of Steve’s shoulders. There was no way for Steve to avoid his gaze. “You don’t like the idea?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s fine. It’s not a big deal.” Bucky’s hands dropped. “I thought it would be fun, is all. It’s okay if you’re too scared.”

“Scared?” Was Bucky trying to goad him? “I’m not scared.”

“I think you are, and it’s got nothing to do with being careful,” Bucky said. “Do you think it’s wrong? Do you think I’m awful for even thinking about it?”

“No.”

“Then what are you afraid of?” Bucky wasn’t trying to challenge Steve now. His voice was gentle. “Maybe you’re afraid you’ll like it.”

“Maybe I’m afraid _you’ll_ like it.”

It came out more heated than Steve had intended, and Bucky stared.

“That’s what—? You can’t be serious. You _know_ how I—”

“I know,” Steve said, cutting him off. “I do, but—”

“Maybe we should stop talking about it.” Bucky started moving again. “You’re right. It’s probably stupid to be talking about it anyway, out on the street.”

“No, we don’t have to—”

But Bucky was already too far away, and Steve wouldn’t shout to make himself heard, so he trotted to catch up. They walked for several long moments in silence before Steve gathered the courage to tell the truth. “I’d be jealous.”

“Jealous?” Bucky seemed surprised, like it hadn’t occurred to him that it was something to get jealous over.

Didn’t he ever feel jealous? It didn’t seem like it. Instead he seemed to _like_ the idea that Will might have an interest in Steve that went beyond curiosity about Captain America.

“Jealous of what?” Bucky said. “You’d be right there, you’d be part of it. That’s the whole reason—hey, wait.” He pulled Steve into a shadowy doorway and grabbed his hand. “I just want to understand. Jealous of him doing stuff to me? Or of me doing stuff to him?”

Steve hesitated. “Both.”

“Okay.” Bucky looked thoughtful. “If you want, I won’t lay a hand on him. I’ll sit on the other side of the room and just watch.”

“Why would—?” That didn’t make any sense at all. Why would Bucky get all excited about this, then volunteer to just sit there and watch? “That wouldn’t be fair.”

“Who cares about fair? I’d have plenty of fun just watching.” Bucky pushed closer and leaned in to whisper. “I wanna watch, remember? I _like_ to watch.”

Bucky’s breath in Steve’s ear sent a shiver down his back.

“And you know, I always go along with your stupid ideas.”

Bucky’s tone had turned light and teasing, and his fingers tightened around Steve’s. Part of Steve wanted to wrap himself around Bucky and beg him to forget this whole stupid argument, though he still felt like he had a point to make. But they were out on the street, so he squeezed Bucky’s hand, then pulled away.

“Even when your stupid ideas involve spending the first sunny spring day getting our clocks cleaned in some alley,” Bucky continued. “Me with my new mitt, remember? Dying to use it since Christmas, but when I go looking for you—”

“Yeah, okay.” Steve said. “But we’re not getting our clocks cleaned.”

“No, I know. We’re the ones doing the cleaning. And I know that it’s important—I’m not saying that. But still, can’t we have a little baseball on a sunny day?”

“But—” Steve cut himself off as soon as he started. He couldn’t explain when he didn’t understand himself what he was thinking.

“But, what? C’mon, Stevie, talk to me.”

Steve spoke carefully. “I don’t know if I would like that—you just watching.” And it wasn’t just about it being unfair to Bucky, though Steve still thought that was important. It was that he would feel self-conscious with someone watching like that, even if the person watching was Bucky. “And I wouldn’t want to do it without you. I thought that was the whole point—to do it together.”

Bucky’s frown cleared. “Yeah, exactly. And if we did it together, there’d be no reason to be jealous.”

“But . . .”

“What?” Bucky gave Steve’s arm a gentle shake. “Just tell me.”

“I’m just not sure I want to share you.” Steve hated the way his voice sounded—like a kid’s, small and uncertain and selfish.

But Bucky seemed to like what Steve had said. He broke into a smile. “You wouldn’t be sharing me. More like we’d be sharing him.” He put his hand on Steve’s arm. “No, we’d be sharing the experience—you and me. Still you and me, just having a little fun, you know, on the side.”

“I don’t know.”

“And I bet he could teach us a thing or two,” Bucky said. “Seems like he knows his way around.”

Steve yanked his arm out of Bucky’s grip.

“Aw, c’mon, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not saying things aren’t good. They’re _great_. You know that. But it’s fun to try something new, right? New experiences. It’s—”

Steve started to turn away, but Bucky wouldn’t let him.

“I don’t understand.” Bucky sighed. “All those times we talked about it. That was—what? Just joking around?”

“No.” Steve hadn’t been joking, but he’d never taken the idea entirely seriously. It had been easy to just lose himself in another one of Bucky’s stories, never following it through to its logical conclusion. “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay if it was. I just thought—” Bucky broke off. “Or was it just about Frank?”

“What?”

“You’d do it with him, if he were here.”

“No, why would you—?”

“That drawing he sent you—he’s good-looking.” Bucky’s eyes cut sideways at Steve, then away again. “And you two sketching each other.”

As much as Steve didn’t like to be reminded of his blindness when it came to Frank’s interest in him, it was reassuring to see a hint of jealousy. But the relief was short-lived. What Bucky was implying bothered Steve, because it was partly true. He knew Frank. He _liked_ Frank, which made him more open to the idea. He had a flash of memory—the glide of Frank’s tongue, fingers clenched tight in his hair—but shook it off. “Wait, Buck, you said you weren’t jealous.”

“OK, maybe a little.” Bucky gave Steve a sheepish grin. “But nothing I can’t handle. And it’s different with Will. It’ll be better with him. We both like him, right? But neither of us know him all that well.”

“Okay.” Steve couldn’t argue with that—it made a certain sense. But he still _wanted_ to argue. “But it isn’t true that I’d only do it with Frank, or that I’d do it with him at all.”

Bucky was studying him.

“I think I could talk about it—about Frank, I mean—because it didn’t seem real,” Steve said. “Not with him all the way in California. Even with the letters. It seemed like it was way in the future, you know? I thought I’d have to time to get used to the idea.”

“We may not have a lot of time, pal.” Bucky said it like he was joking, but Steve didn’t like it. “This may be our only chance.”

Bucky might mean that it was likely their only easy opportunity with Will. He was on leave in London, so if they waited, it would be tough to track him down. But Bucky’d written a lot in his letters about chance. Everyone knew the odds for the RAF, and Will’s position in particular sounded impossibly dangerous. Bucky might not be worried about the odds just for Will, either, though Steve hated to even think it.

There was so much Bucky didn’t talk about. Things that happened with his old unit before Steve came over, and whatever happened to him on Zola’s table. Most of the time he hid it well, but every now and then Steve caught a glimpse of the change in him, just the slightest fraying around the edges, and nothing the serum had given him could help protect Bucky from that.

So he didn’t question the little ways Bucky found to make do. Like when he drifted away into his own thoughts. Or when he drank too much. If this thing with Will was part of that, was it any worse? Put next to the thoughts that plagued Bucky, next to chance—life or death—this seemed like such a small thing. Frivolous and fun. And what was wrong with that?

Steve looked Bucky right in the eye. “Let me think about it.”

Bucky nodded, put his arm around Steve’s shoulders again, and steered him in the direction of the hotel.

 

*****

Steve stood up and raised his arms above his head to stretch. His knuckles brushed the ceiling. “We’ve done enough for one night,” he said. “Come to bed.”

Bucky nodded, but he was absorbed, scribbling figures on a scrap of paper, so Steve let him be. He changed into pajamas, headed into the bathroom to brush his teeth, then grabbed a book and sat on the edge of the bed.

Bucky was surrounded by the warm circle of light from the lamp on the table next to him. He was still poring over the maps they’d spread out, nodding slightly as he checked his calculations. That intense concentration—it was like when they used to do their homework at the Barnes kitchen table. Bucky was usually the one kidding around, always quick with a joke, but when Steve lost focus and started doodling in the margins of his math homework, it was Bucky who reined him back in.

Even people who knew Bucky wasn’t the kid sidekick from the comics tended to assume that he tagged along after Steve, but it had never been like that. There would be no Captain America without Bucky, and he did it all quietly, without making Steve blush for his lack of experience as a commanding officer. And Bucky didn’t ask for much.

Now that Steve was over his surprise, he felt a little embarrassed about the argument earlier. He didn’t really worry Bucky was dissatisfied. He knew that wasn’t what this was about, though he didn’t pretend to understand why Bucky had fixed on _this_.

And Bucky was right: if Steve could stop worrying, it _would_ be fun. He’d only spent a short time in Will’s company, but he was likable and clever. He had a way with words and was quick to tease. It suddenly occurred to Steve: _No one could say my taste isn’t consistent_. The thought was followed almost immediately by the certainty that though Bucky might like Will well enough himself, he’d picked him with Steve’s preferences in mind. It was sweet, in a surprising kind of way.

Steve looked at Bucky, still sitting at the table, and tried to imagine Will there, taking the pencil stub out of Bucky’s hand, running his fingers through Bucky’s hair, turning him away from the table to kiss him the way Steve would right that second if he weren’t trapped in his own thoughts.

The image filled Steve with a restless arousal. He wanted to move—to grab Bucky and drag him to bed—but he also felt ill at ease. Even after several months, he’d only barely gotten used to being able to touch Bucky whenever he wanted. He worried he wouldn’t know what to do with himself with someone else in the room. Back home, he’d always hated watching Bucky kiss his dates goodnight. But this would be different. Steve wouldn’t have to just watch. Why was he imagining himself set apart? He could jump in and kiss Bucky too, anytime he wanted.

Steve tried again, imagining Will kissing Bucky, watching the movements of Bucky’s lips and tongue, but being able to dive in and claim that pleasure for himself rather than having to sit by and stew in hopelessness. And he would be able to kiss Will too. Steve hadn’t really thought about what that might be like. He thought of Frank—the smell of his cologne, his mouth sucking at Steve’s neck—but immediately pushed the memory away.

Bucky glanced over and frowned when he saw Steve’s expression. “You’re looking awful down in the mouth.”

“I’m not,” Steve said. “Just thinking.”

Bucky rose from his chair, then came to sit on the bed. “I shouldna said anything to Will, shouldna sprung it on you like that. I’m sorry.” He took Steve’s hand. “I won’t bring it up again. We’ll just enjoy our furlough. No big deal, okay?”

Steve would have thought he’d be relieved, but instead, he wanted to keep arguing. He would never have suggested something like this himself, but now that the idea was in his head . . . “I haven’t said no.”

Bucky looked up, a hint of a smile on his face. “No, I guess you haven’t.”

“I was actually thinking good things.”

Bucky’s smile broadened. “Yeah? Like what?” He wrapped his arm around Steve’s back.

“Well . . .” If Steve wasn’t honest, this would never work. “I realized you’ve never kissed another man. Other than me.”

“No, I guess not.” Bucky obviously hadn’t thought about that before either. But his surprised expression quickly turned into a small frown. “But that’s not why I want to do it.”

“I know,” Steve said, and it was the truth. “But still, you talk about me having new experiences, but you will too. “ His cheeks felt warm. “And I wouldn’t mind seeing that.”

Steve heard Bucky’s breath catch. “You wouldn’t mind, huh?”

Steve turned to press his lips to Bucky’s and was pleased when Bucky relaxed into it—he knew Steve wasn’t angry anymore.

“Anything else you wouldn’t mind?” Bucky murmured against Steve’s mouth.

Steve kissed him again rather than answer. With his eyes closed, it was easier to imagine Will there. The idea of him watching didn’t make Steve feel self-conscious now. It made his heart race—made him start to get hard.

When they separated, Bucky still wore a crooked smile, but he was squinting skeptically. “You really don’t have to do this, you know. I don’t want you to just go along with it because you think—”

“I’m not. I’m just . . . entertaining the idea.”

“Okay,” Bucky said. “Just knowing that is pretty damn entertaining in itself.” He gave Steve a one-armed squeeze.

Steve said slowly, “If we did do this . . .”

“Yeah?”

“How would it work exactly? We just call up and ask him to drop by the hotel? That seems . . . And how do we make sure he really knows what you’re asking?”

“He knows.” Bucky laughed, leaning hard against Steve’s body for a moment. “Trust me, he knows.”

“Okay.”

“You know, I thought we could do something nice. Take him for dinner at the officer’s club.”

“You think?”

“C’mon, tablecloths, china, fancy silverware? And good food. It’ll be great.”

“Really?” Steve didn’t think Will seemed like the kind of guy who’d feel comfortable at the officer’s club. _Steve_ didn’t feel comfortable at the officer’s club. “You think he’d like that?”

Bucky poked his finger hard into Steve’s side. “ _I’d_ like it.”

Steve laughed. “Okay, we’ll do that then.”

“Yeah, a real nice dinner. Then we could ask him back here—to see your sketches.”

Steve shook his head, but he couldn’t help smiling. “We don’t even know if he likes art.”

“I’ve got a feeling he appreciates the human form.” Bucky ran his hand up Steve’s thigh. “ _Your_ form, for sure.”

Steve wanted to protest, but he could only laugh.

“ _Trust_ me,” Bucky said.

“I do trust you. I do.”

Bucky smiled, ducked his head, and laughed. “I guess you really _aren’t_ just going along.”

Steve followed Bucky’s gaze down to where his hand was resting on Steve’s thigh. Steve should have realized that the thin fabric of his pajamas wouldn’t do much to hide his arousal, but Bucky was grinning.

“C’mere.” Bucky took Steve’s book, set it on bedside table, gently pushed Steve back until his head was resting on the pillow, then shoved up next to him. He brushed one hand over the tented front of Steve’s pajama pants. “If we’re gonna talk about this, we should probably do it without this kind of distraction.”

“Probably,” Steve said, but he turned onto his side to push against Bucky.

Bucky’s hand grasped Steve’s hip and held him still. “Definitely.”

Steve groaned in frustration, but Bucky was right. “Okay.” Steve tried to clear his head, because there was one thing he had to ask. He shifted lower so he could hide his face in the front of Bucky’s shirt. “Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“What would we do, _exactly_?”

“Exactly?”

“I wouldn’t want to—” Steve took a deep breath. “Maybe if we didn’t use _all_ our recipes.”

“Okay, I see. Yeah, we don’t have to, ah, add any British spam to our sandwiches. They need to ration it anyway, right?” Bucky ruffled Steve’s hair. “So we won’t do that, and we can make him happy some other way. Is that okay?”

“Okay.” Steve hadn’t realized how much that particular idea had bothered him until Bucky took the possibility off the table.

“What else? How about kissing?” Bucky punctuated the question with a peck on Steve’s cheek.

“Yeah, that’s okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. I don’t think it would be very nice to not kiss him at all. It would seem kind of stand-offish, don’t you think?”

Bucky laughed. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want to be unfriendly or anything.” His arm snaked around Steve’s waist. “And we could touch him? And he could touch us?”

“Well, yeah,” Steve said, though he could feel the flush spreading over his face. “It wouldn’t really be sex if no one was touching anyone else.”

“I mean specifically. What about our dicks? Could he touch our dicks?”

Steve wished they’d turned out the light before starting to talk about this. He took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

Bucky leaned in for a kiss. “What about his mouth?” Bucky’s voice was gruff now, and his hips were nudging his hard-on against Steve’s thigh. “Could he use his mouth on you?”

“Geez, Bucky.”

“Cause I really want to see that. Would you—would you let him suck you while I watch? And I can kiss you too—I can’t kiss you and suck your dick at the same time.”

Steve couldn’t answer. He grabbed Bucky’s head, licking into his mouth, but Bucky pulled away from the kiss to whisper in Steve’s ear. “What about _his_ dick?”

Steve froze.

“Steve?”

“Sorry, just—I can’t think like this. We’ve got to slow down and just talk.”

“Okay.” Bucky propped himself up on one elbow, putting some space between them, but at the same time he rubbed a soothing hand down Steve’s side. “Okay, sorry, I just—”

“I know.” Steve pushed the heel of his hand on his crotch, trying to get himself under control. “Me too.”

Bucky shook his head to clear it. “Okay, so where were we?”

“Um, you asked about touching Will.”

“Right, well, it wouldn’t really be _fair_ if we didn’t touch his dick at all.”

“Oh, you’re making fun of me now?” But it was easier to talk when they weren’t being serious.

Bucky gave him a devilish grin. “I just want to be fair.”

“Okay, but geez, Buck, I don’t want to make all the rules.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay with whatever we do. I mean, whatever we would do. If we did this.”

Steve wasn’t sure how the conversation had shifted from _what if_ to something more concrete, but he appreciated Bucky drawing back from that. Part of him had been worried that by speculating about this stuff, he was making it seem like he was already on board. He should have had more faith in how well Bucky knew him.

“We could talk to each other, right?” Steve asked. “I mean . . . during?”

It seemed like Bucky hadn’t thought of that. “I guess. But it doesn’t seem very _friendly_ if one of us starts jerking him off and the other goes _Don’t touch that!_ ”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “I know I’m not always subtle, but I think I can do better than that.”

Bucky settled back on the mattress, tugging at Steve until he came close and put his head on Bucky’s chest. Bucky’s arm settled around Steve’s shoulders.

“So we nixed some recipes . . .” Bucky let the sentence trail off.

“Yeah?”

“I mean with him. But could _I_ fuck you?”

Heat flooded Steve’s face. Will would be _watching_. Steve held himself still. They were supposed to be talking without distraction. Knowing he’d never be able to answer out loud, Steve nodded.

“Yeah?” Bucky’s arm was an iron band around Steve’s shoulders. “You’d let me—? Wow, that’s—wow.” His arm slowly relaxed, and he rubbed Steve’s shoulder gently, as if apologizing for gripping it so tightly. “Could he maybe help?”

“Help?” Steve surprised himself by laughing. “Help _how_? Isn’t that kind of a one-man job?”

“I mean before. I could suck on your dick while he helped get you ready. You know, with his fingers.”

“Oh, God.” Steve’s whole body went hot. He grabbed Bucky’s shirt and yanked him into a kiss. Bucky let him do it, but just for a minute. Then he pulled away.

“We said we were going to talk about it,” Bucky said.

“We are talking about it.” Steve tried to tug Bucky closer, but he wouldn’t budge.

“If you keep kissing me like that we won’t be talking much anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Steve scooted over—if Bucky wouldn’t move, Steve would just have to go to him. “You talk all the time when we’re in bed. You never stop.”

Steve pressed a line of sucking kisses to Bucky’s neck and felt smug when his answer sounded breathless. “You know what I mean. Come on.” He gently untangled Steve’s arms and legs from his and gave Steve’s chest a few pats. “We’re talking.”

“I think we’ve done enough talking.” Steve knocked Bucky’s hand out of the way and pushed close. “I want to do it. I want to.”

“Don’t make up your mind yet,” Bucky said. “Not like this. We still—”

Steve cut him off with a kiss. “Okay, I won’t. I won’t decide yet.” He shoved his hand up under Bucky’s shirt, desperate to feel his skin.

“Wait, you gotta think about it.” Bucky said. But at least he’d given up trying to stop Steve from touching him. “Then how about we meet up with him? See how things go?”

“Okay. Okay, yeah. Just see how it goes. Good.” Steve nudged Bucky up toward the head of the bed and started to work on his buttons. “I just don’t want to _talk_ anymore.”

“Fine by me.” He scrambled away, pushing Steve down flat and getting his pajamas open.

“Wait, Buck, I was gonna—”

“Sssssshhh,” Bucky said, already bending his head. “We’re not talking anymore. Listen.” And he swallowed Steve down eagerly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [hansbekhart](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hansbekhart/pseuds/hansbekhart) for beta!


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky found he was humming to himself as he combed his hair in front of the mirror in their hotel room. They’d had a lazy day off and mostly finished plotting the coordinates for their air drop into France. Mostly thanks to Bucky--though Steve’s head for figures had improved, whether because of the serum or because he was finally taking it seriously Bucky couldn’t tell.

Bucky slicked his part to one side, then the other, examining the effect of each change in the mirror. He had gone to the London shops and had no luck finding Brylcreem, but one of the men in the pharmacy had sold him on Vitalis. He still wasn’t quite sure what the magical V7 ingredient supposed to be in it might be.

“I’ve heard of a V6 and a V8,” he’d told the man, “But engine oil isn’t what I had in mind.”

The man had assured him it wasn’t petrol.

“What’s petrol?” Bucky had asked.

The man had stared at him. “Surely rationing hasn’t got that bad in America,” he’d said.

Bucky thought there might’ve been a fundamental miscommunication there. But he’d bought the stuff anyhow. It was golden, looked like honey when he poured it out, and had a smell distinctly reminiscent of medicinal alcohol. He shrugged to himself and rubbed a little more into his hair, working it through with a comb. He’d decided to brush his hair mostly to the left. It had gotten long enough that it made a nice, clean line across his forehead. He thought better of that, though, and teased out one lock of hair in front.

He leaned in close to the mirror. He looked older than he had in Brooklyn. Usually you couldn’t see yourself getting older, but they went long enough without mirrors that he guessed it had caught up with him. Steve looked older, too.

Bucky found himself still humming a tune just under his breath. _Glory, Glory Hallelujah…_

He made a face and changed his tune, reaching for the tie he’d laid over the vanity.

Bucky hadn’t worn a tie since the airplane silk. But the American Army in London was very strict, so he was wearing one now. His dress uniform’s khaki worsted tie felt nothing at all like silk.

Here in London, officers had to be in their pinks all the time; the dress pants weren’t actually pink, but the Brits teased them about it almost as much as Will had teased Steve about his outfit. Bucky’d liked that. Will teasing Steve, not overawed or contemptuous. Some of the Americans got funny about Captain America, but these Brits, they were all right.

The Americans were funny in Britain. Another thing about being in Britain was that, among the vast cavalcade of American soldiers that had descended upon London, everyone saluted everyone, all the time. Bucky himself had just started saluting indiscriminately, tired of trying to count chevrons. He saluted a private. He saluted a newspaperman. He saluted a lady walking her pit bull. He saluted everyone. It won him both general goodwill and a dressing-down from the Second Lieutenant he saluted right after the dog-walker.

“I thought that was Prime Minister Churchill,” Bucky had said, looking after the dog.

“What’s your name, Sergeant?”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” Bucky had said. “Of the SSR Team Alpha.” He’d raised an eyebrow and saluted again, for good measure.

And the Second Lieutenant had nothing to say to that except the universal rejoinder left to officers who’d been wrong-footed: “As you were.”

As you were.

Steve had stepped out to telephone to the officers’ club and let them know he had two guests. He returned, now, and Bucky turned from the mirror to give him a grin.

“All set?”

Steve was dressed in his regular officers’ uniform--not the Captain America suit. Bucky would miss the nonplussed expressions he got walking down the street in _that_. But he couldn’t complain about the sight of Steve’s shoulders in a jacket, even if he never did get the positioning of his bars right. No one laughed at Steve walking down the street in his dress uniform, though they did stare.

“Yeah, c’mere,” Bucky said. “Lemme fix you up.”

Steve put his hands on Bucky’s hips while Bucky fiddled with the pins on his uniform shoulder, then worked at the knot of his tie.

“Hm,” Steve said.

“What?” Bucky looked up. Steve looked back, more intently than he’d expected: searching. Bucky really hoped he wasn’t having second thoughts. “I got something on my face?” He inclined his head forward, hoping for a kiss. But Steve didn’t respond in kind.

“You--have you been hitting the bottle already?”

“No, I’m waiting for the open bar at the Officers’ Club,” he said. “Honest, Steve.”

“You smell like--”

He realized something. “Oh, that’s this hair stuff. It smells like booze, I guess. Here, smell.” He ducked his head forward and felt Steve’s nose against his hair; his inward breath tickled Bucky’s scalp.

“Oh,” Steve said, “Yeah. It does. Buck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”

“You worried about tonight? Worried Will isn’t going to show? How could he not, look what he’d be missing--” Bucky’s nod took in the both of them, crowded close to each other.

“I’m not worried about tonight,” Steve said. He looked at Bucky for a while, and sighed. “Well. A little. But I thought we’d just see where things went, right?”

“Right,” Bucky said, softening. He patted Steve’s chest. “Okay. You look good, punk. Real good.” His eyes flicked down, then up, tracing the line of Steve’s jaw over his collar.

“You’re not bad yourself,” Steve said. “You look…” He hesitated. “Like when you used to get ready to go on dates back home.”

“Yeah, only this time you’re finally coming _with_ me,” Bucky said.

“I came with you plenty of--”

“Well, but now you’re the main event.”

“So all that time, with all those double dates,” Steve said. He shook his head. “You really do like sharing, huh?”

Bucky blinked. “I guess… no…” he said, slowly. He caught Steve’s hand in his and pulled him closer. “No. I like showing you _off_ ,” he said. “I wanted them to see what I saw. But sometimes I was glad when they didn’t.”

“Sometimes I was too,” Steve said.

“Just sometimes?” Bucky pulled him closer, hands on both his arms now.

Steve’s lips pursed a little, and he raised his eyebrows. “See. You do get jealous.”

“Mm, but I kinda like it.”

“You like getting jealous?”

“Yeah, it’s…” Bucky’s hands snuck down to Steve’s ass, and he squeezed hard, then let go. Steve made a funny sound of surprise and took a half-step forward, bumping into Bucky. They settled against the wall, and Bucky let his legs slide out around Steve’s and tipped his head back so they could talk face to face. “It’s… I like it because then I get to have you again.”

“Of course,” Steve said. He leaned in to kiss Bucky, breathing deep through his nose, sucking Bucky’s tongue into his mouth. He pulled back. “Come on, you know that.”

“I know it,” Bucky said. “But I like to hear you say it.”

“You’ve got me,” Steve said. He paused a moment. Their bodies were flush against the wall, their faces so close they kept exchanging glancing little kisses between breaths. “I like to hear you say it, too,” he said finally. Not in the almost-petulant way he’d told Bucky he didn’t like sharing yesterday. But straightforward, more like how Steve usually talked.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, pulling him tighter in. He laced his fingers together behind Steve’s back and made a firm circle of his arms, so Steve couldn’t escape. Well, he could, but he wouldn’t. “Me too, you got me. Hey, you know… maybe we oughtta…”

They were moving together now, pressed close. It was so hard to keep his hands off Steve when he knew they were truly safe. Air raids aside, they were safe here in London.

“We oughtta?” Steve said. “We oughtta...” He straightened his shoulders. “We oughtta get to the Officers’ Club.” He pushed back from the wall; Bucky regretfully released the clasp of his hands behind Steve’s back. “Can’t leave Will waiting.”

“Wouldn’t be polite,” Bucky said.

“Yes,” Steve said, in his ringing Captain America tones. He cleared his throat and drew himself up, mock-stern. “Politeness. It’s key to fostering the spirit of brotherhood between the nations.”

Bucky laughed.

“Okay, come on,” Steve said, brushing off his jacket sleeves. His Captain’s bars were crooked again. Bucky supposed he’d fix them later or not at all. “The Officers’ Club. You were so lit up about that.”

“True,” Bucky said, straightening his clothing. He turned to glance back in the mirror, making sure his hair still looked fine. “No, I am. I’m excited. The whole thing. Fostering brotherhood, but also… fucking _tablecloths_ , Steve. And silverware I don’t gotta bring myself.” The enlisted men got china plates, all right, but no waiter service, and they even had to lug along their own tin mugs.

The Officers’ Club, Bucky saw when they’d navigated the darkening London streets to arrive there, even had live piano music in the lounge. It really was a club, the lounge lit in dark orange. Men in uniform moved stiffly inside, and then, past the threshold, ever so slightly unwound: becalmed among their own kind.

Well, mostly their own kind. Amongst the general taupe, brown, and olive drab, Will’s bright orange hair stood out like a signal flare. So did his sheepskin-lined flying jacket, which he’d left open in the warm room, collar turned up under the curls at his nape.

Will was talking to the Corporal charged with ticking off names on the sheet of guests. He sounded very different from when Bucky and Steve had spoken to him last. The tinge of Scots in his accent had dropped away. He sounded a little like Monty, actually.

“... swear I’m not pulling your leg. The pair of them, straight from the pages of the comics.”

The Corporal looked skeptical, but the expression faded when Steve made his way over and smiled down at him in that too-polite way he had when he wanted to add a few pounds of leverage to the weight of his image. Bucky had seen that develop interestingly over the course of the past few months of Steve’s dealings with the Army brass. He admired it.

“Is there a problem, Corporal?” Steve said, with deceptive mildness.

The Corporal glanced down at Steve’s Captain’s bars--still crooked, but it didn’t seem to matter; the Corporal saluted anyhow, hasty and reflexive.

“You might’ve met Captain Rogers,” Bucky said. “Also known as Captain America.”

“And _you_ are?” said the Corporal, shifting his gaze to Bucky.

“His loyal sidekick Bucky Barnes. Don’t you read the comics?”

“And they’re both my guests,” Steve said firmly. He gave Will a little smile, and Bucky thought: _yes, good_. He recognized the way Will looked back; their eyes caught a moment later, and Bucky winked.

The Corporal let them in after a long, skeptical look at the two of them; but Bucky was a sergeant, so he had to listen to what he said.

They navigated their way past the registry desk and toward the dining room. China clinked from inside, but the corridor leading to it was quiet; they were alone.

“So what colour are _your_ tights in real life?" Will said to Bucky in an undertone.

“I got dressed in the dark. Wanna check for me?" Bucky let his elbow brush against Will’s arm. Will was a comfortable height; he had to look down at him a little to speak, but he didn’t mind.

"I dunno, you know the price of silk these days, I'd have to be nice and slow so I didn't ladder them.”

"Slow is fine,” Bucky said. “Well, maybe not for Stevie here...."

Steve cleared his throat. He was turning red again, but he contained himself. “Of the three of us,” he said quietly, “I have the most experience with hosiery.”

Will grinned. “Oi, you speak for yourself.”

They were _all_ a little red in the face by the time they took their seats at a corner table in the dining room. Enlisted men came over to fill their glasses. Steve, of course, made a point of thanking every single one of them.

“Pretty ritzy,” Bucky said, looking around. When he swept his glance back to his dinner companions, though, they looked less impressed. Well, Steve did. Will looked… Bucky rested his chin on his knuckles and surveyed him. Huh. Discomfort was new. Will took being propositioned in stride--hadn’t batted an eyelid--but shove him in a room full of officers and the slim tendon under his jawline spasmed. Almost as bad as Steve.

“Refill, gents?”

Will started. “What? Oh. No, ta.” He curled his fingers over the rim of his glass and tracked the man’s retreat with his eyes. He licked his middle fingertip and circled the glass until it sang.

Bucky followed the movement of his fingers. The thrum of glass tickled his ears and made his jaw pop.

“You don’t get used to it,” said Steve suddenly, and Will cocked his head to look at him aslant.

“What’s that?”

“People being – well, being like this.” Steve’s forearm was braced on the tabletop but his fist was a tight knot. “Offering things. Being waited on – it doesn’t come easy.”

Will sat up a little. “Captain America?” he said, mouth curving into something not quite cheerful enough for a smile.

Steve nodded and for a few moments they sat in silence; Will’s finger was still on the lip of the glass, unmoving. Then he lifted it and Bucky watched the pliant way his mouth molded to it as he took a swig.

“You talk differently,” Will said, setting the glass back down. “When you’re talking about the character, it’s different from the way you speak about yourself.”

“The character?” Steve looked spooked, almost. He’d picked up his fork and was running his thumb up and down the handle.

“Cap,” Bucky put in, as though it might help to call him by the silly nickname.

“Well, yes. He’s a cartoon character, isn’t he?” Will looked from Steve to Bucky and back again. “I’m sorry, did I–? My _point_ wasn’t about him. What I meant was, that I do that. Adjust my words.”

Steve was leaning forward. “You do?”

“A little,” Will clarified, sounding slightly defensive. “Only a little.” He grinned. “Northerner, you know.”

“Yeah.” Bucky idly rubbed the side of his nose. “Steve, put the fork down, will ya?”

Steve did so with a jolt: the fork clinked against his plate, its silver handle now marred by three fingerprints. Bucky resisted the urge to pick it back up and polish it on his shirt cuff. Steve couldn’t tie knots in tanks--though he could rip the hatches off them--but he could do damage to cutlery.

“I’m sorry,” said Steve, mostly to the fork from the looks of it. “I just – I don’t really like – and I wanted this to be fun.”

Bucky opened his mouth but Will spoke first. “No, _I’m_ sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to bring down the tone. It’s _interesting_ in here.”

“Is that one of the polite British things where you actually want to blow the joint?” Bucky said.

“Are you one of those brash Americans who’d just walk out on a ten-bob tea?”

“Oh, I’m not. Don’t look at _me_.” Bucky jerked his chin at Steve. “Ask him about that. Ask him about the time he threw a lobster tail at a guy at Janssen Hofbrau. Oh, excuse me, the _famous_ Janssen Hofbrau.”

“I’m not familiar,” Will said.

“Come on, Bucky,” Steve said. “That was--he started it.”

“That was _my_ lobster tail, actually.”

“You were done with it, and you heard what the guy was saying about Roosevelt.”

“Janssen Hofbrau,” Bucky told Will, talking right over Steve, though he did give him a stern look, “Is a very nice restaurant, even classier than this place, though I know that’s hard to believe. So this is my birthday, mind you, so we were up in Manhattan and my boss paid for the whole dinner and of course I bring Steve along because, well, you have to treat a fella right…” He realized he had thought about it even then. It hadn’t seemed at all strange to him that when Mr. Klein had asked if he had someone he’d like to treat to dinner, he’d thought immediately of Steve.

“So he goes and gets into a fistfight over the Works Projects because he hears some guy calling us Irish bums for going to the place on my boss’s ticket. We almost knocked over someone’s five-dollar plate of prime rib. It was great. Best birthday I’ve ever had. A tremendous experience. The waiters were so impressed with Steve they gave him a raw steak for his face but he just wrapped it up to take back to his mother.”

“Someone gave _you_ a black eye?” Will said, running his eyes over Steve. “How’d they reach that high?”

“I wasn’t always like this,” Steve said. “I was--well, sort of the ninety-pound weakling you hear about.”

“Hang on, that’s hard to imagine.”

“The magic of vitamins,” Bucky said. “Just like carrots, don’tcha know, that helped all our soldiers' vision for landing planes.”

The corners of Will’s mouth twitched, like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of this. He glanced from Bucky back to Steve, presumably because Steve appeared less comfortable with the story they were telling and more likely to crack. Ha--he wouldn’t.

“No, really, experimental vitamin tonic. Did all right by him, don’t you think?” Bucky swept a hand out, displaying Steve; Steve batted it away. “Just like in the comics. Didn’t you _read_ the comics?”

“Sorry, but they’re not always my first choice of material.”

“I’m offended. You better make that up to us. Not reading the comics. You knew _I_ was supposed to be a twelve-year-old kid.”

“You _act_ like one,” Steve said.

“That’s my childlike sense of fun,” Bucky told Will. “That he’s referring to.”

“But he’s not kidding,” Steve said, serene in his momentary victory. Which had been exactly Bucky’s intention, in teasing him. “I used to be a little guy.”

“And we love you for it, Cap,” Bucky said.

Steve’s face softened.

Bucky noticed that _Will_ was sort of a little guy; that was probably the reason he’d entered the RAF. Steve had considering trying to fly a plane back when he’d been smaller, too, but his eyesight wasn’t up to it, plus the motion sickness.

Will said, “The little guy, then?” and it sounded a bit stilted, a bit unnatural, the way it ticked through his teeth with his articulation of the t’s. “You’re fighting for him?”

Steve said, “I guess you could say for the ideal of him.”

“Well, we’ll see.” Will paused. “He’s fighting too, you know. I’ve met enough of the little fellers to know that.”

Bucky said, “Aren’t we all little fellas, though?” He thought of it: warfare in miniature, tin soldiers in rows, as they so often appeared from his high far vantage point. He thought how preferable that would be. And then he looked at Steve, and he thought _Well, maybe not **you**_ ; but Steve had already begun speaking to Will.

“You don’t sound too sure.”

Will shrugged. “Truthfully? I’m not. I think we’re all keeping our heads down at the moment. Dig for victory and all. So far down as to bury our heads in the sand, somewhat.”

“But you gotta believe you’re fighting for a reason.”

Will laughed, mirthless but not vicious. “Of course. I’m no more a fan of Naziism than Churchill is.”

Steve latched onto that: “See? You’ve got Churchill, right?”

Will fixed him with a look. “Yes, Churchill’s all very well, but he’s–” He gestured, trying to summon the words. “They call him a toff hereabouts, some people, and they’re not wrong. He’s – well, he’s a wartime leader. _Never in the field of human conflict_ and all. Charismatic, you see?”

“Charisma’s not bad–” said Steve at the same time as Bucky’s, “ _Hitler’s_ charismatic.”

Will looked between them, faintly amused. “You’re both missing the point,” he said. “He’s going to be out of _touch_. People don’t want old leaders, old money, old ideas. The world’s different now. What’re the Tories going to be left with? Think about it.”

Steve frowned. “Lots of soldiers.”

“Right.”

“Hungry soldiers.”

“Most likely.”

“Without jobs.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“So… unrest?”

“More than unrest, I should say.” Will made a funny little grimace, then shook his head and went on. “People – ordinary people, I mean, the little guys – they’ll want change.”

Steve was nodding now, catching Will’s drift. “An end to rationing. Social upheaval. Nobody wants to fight a war and go back to living in poverty.”

Will snapped his fingers at him; Bucky jumped. “Exactly,” Will continued, more animated now. “Did you hear about Beveridge in Brooklyn? His report? Wants to create a welfare state. Education. Healthcare. The works.”

“And Churchill… won’t back it?”

Will shrugged. “He might. Election season in’t upon us just yet. I can’t predict the future. But the Labour party are the underdogs.” Grinning. “And Blighty loves an underdog.” Something in the way he said it was reminiscent of Monty.

“Well, we know something about that,” Bucky said, mostly for something to say. It was probably shameful, but he just didn’t follow politics the way Steve did; he’d always sort of let Steve and his Dad handle that from opposite ends, and accepted whatever opinions they fed him on the topic with equanimity, even in the cases when those opinions clashed. He remembered the first time they’d gone to vote--he’d asked Steve who he oughtta elect. Then his dad had said something different, and Steve had gotten mad at him for asking, because Bucky ought to _figure it out for himself_ \--which was exactly what Bucky always told Steve about his _math_ homework.

He went back to pushing potatoes around on his plate.

“Bucky?” Steve said.

“Yeah? What?”

Steve gave him a look, because he knew better than to ask if he were _okay_ in front of Will. But Will was smiling at them both jovially enough, switching his gaze from Steve to Bucky.

“Not a supporter of the Labour movement?” Will said.

“No, it’s not that,” Bucky said, “It’s just not the conversation I thought we’d be having tonight.”

“Not to worry,” Will said. “You’ve indulged my holding forth.” His eyebrow went up on the word ‘indulged,’ and Bucky smiled back, feeling a little better. Steve nudged at his foot under the table. Bucky shut his eyes for a second and sighed.

“At least the food’s good.” Bucky looked back over at the other two. Steve had finished his plate with impressive acumen, as always these days. He’d even stopped looking surprised about it. “Too bad they don’t have ice cream.”

Steve coughed and had to take a sip of his water.

“So where’s somewhere we might be able to kick back a little,” Bucky said. “You know London, is there anywhere we might get a drink that doesn’t have more brass around than an opera house?”

Will looked thoughtful for a moment, leaning away in his chair, lips moving and eyes going to the ceiling. Then he righted himself with a sudden, quick smile, and said, “Yeah, I’ve got somewhere in mind. If you want a drink or two. I’ll have you know, though, that I am the reigning champion of the dartboard there.”

“Oh is that so,” Bucky said. “I have better-than-perfect vision, I’ll have _you_ know.”

“Darts isn’t only about vision, though I’ll wager mine’s just as good as yours.”

Steve said, “You know--”

Bucky said, “Sh, Steve, you don’t count, you got all those carrots in the vitamin drink.”

“ _Bucky_.”

“It’s true, though,” Bucky said, nodding at Will. “We both do seem to notice some of the same things.” He slid his eyes toward Steve and licked the tines of his fork. Will raised an eyebrow and settled into a smile himself.

* * *

 

They walked down the street in the foggy cool April air, shaking off the shine of the officer’s mess and settling into something more comfortable: the embrace of the darkened street.

“All right, Sergeant,” Will said. “Your perfect vision. What does that street sign say?”

Bucky stared ahead in the gloom to the sign hanging on an upright post, swaying somewhat in the wind. Marylebone Station, it said. Bucky faltered only because he hadn’t the foggiest idea how to pronounce it. “Mary-luh-bone?” he said, going for French like he heard from Dernier.

They stopped at the curb. Will shook his head gravely. “You can't have the point unless you say it properly, I'm afraid.”

Bucky glanced at Steve, who shrugged, standing with hands in pockets and watching the two of them with a smile.

Will had looked at Steve, too. They both couldn’t stop looking at him--like he were in charge of this whole enterprise, though he’d been reluctant at first.

“When in Rome, Barnes, when in Rome," Will said.

Bucky said, “We’re not in Rome. I’ve never been to Rome. Been to Naples.”

“Did you butcher all their place names too?” Will responded mildly, as they stepped across the fog-slick street.

“I saved their places from getting blown up by Germans,” Bucky said, “so I figure I can say ‘em however I want.”

Will appeared to have seen that coming. He turned the corner smartly and tipped his head up to look at Bucky.”All right, but you're in Laaaandan now, fella. Now, come on, how d'you pronounce that?”

The sign said Leicester Square. Steve stepped in. “Lester! I knew that one.”

“We know _some_ of your tricks. Greenwich, f’rinstance,” Bucky said, “We got a whole Greenwich Village back in New York.”

There were maps at the bar, tacked to the dim far wall, one of London and one of the British Isles, part of the general patriotic decor. After they’d ordered pints of beer they clustered around the corner, scoping out the mapped territory. It was a lot more fun than calculating their planned airdrop had been earlier.

“ _Cock_ fosters?” Bucky said, snorting foam. He took a long, warm slug of beer and shook his head. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“Maybe it’s pronounced Conkers,” Steve pointed out. “Have you thought of that?”

“No, in this case it is as written,” Will said. He pointed with his free hand. “Now what about that?”

Bucky eyed the name. Southwark. He looked toward Steve, who shrugged.

“Okay,” Bucky said. He set his beer down on the nearby table and loosened his collar, pulling at his necktie. “I got it. I figure okay, the key is you just get rid of most of the middle bits of the word. So this has gotta be… Swark. Yep. See, Steve,” he lectured, ignoring Will’s helpless snorts of laughter and the smile tugging at Steve’s lips. “You gotta find the trick to it. Like getting the _meat_ out of a lobster. So you suck out the inside of the word a little and-- _voilà_ \--It’s clearly Swark. Am I right or am I right? Or am I right?” he insisted, shaking a finger at them both.

Will couldn’t speak for gasping, tears in his eyes. He finally caught his breath long enough only to take a swig of beer and point to the map again. He’d gotten flushed, high color creeping up toward his hairline. Bucky _liked_ making people laugh, making them come undone that way. And Steve had relaxed, too, sitting back in his chair and watching with a satisfied grin.

“That one,” Will said, pointing to Bicester. “Is ‘Bista’. And there--” He pointed to a smaller, faded map tacked to the wall, labeled Oxford.

“That I know. Monty went there,” Steve said.

“And won’t shut up about it,” said Bucky.

“Oh, Oxford man, is he?” Will said.

“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re probably right,” Bucky said. “His bad poetry alone. So Oxford.”

Will tapped the map of Oxford. “There: Magdalen Bridge.” He pronounced it ‘maudlin.’ “All right, if you get this next one the second round’s on me. Have at it.” He pointed to a spot on the larger map of the Isles.

“Belvoir?” Steve said tentatively, pronouncing it like in French.

“Too _obvious,_ Steve, c’mon. Bravo?” Bucky guessed. “Blaver? Bore?”

Will had covered his face with his hands. Bucky thumped him on the back.

“Come _on_.”

“Beaver,” Will gasped out. “It’s _beaver_.”

“Well what would any of _us_ have to do with _that_?” Bucky said, knocking an elbow into Steve, who looked completely mortified--red even in the dark of the bar. Bucky picked up his beer and took a drink, then slid it sideways along the table to him, wiping foam off his lips. “Come on. Hold my drink, we’re gonna play darts. ‘Cause I lost this place names contest and I gotta _redeem_ myself. Steve, you wanna?”

“No,” Steve said, sitting back, shaking his head. Bucky leaned a little closer to make sure, in the dark of the bar, that he was all right. “I’ll just watch.”

“Watch, huh?” Bucky said.

“Watch our drinks,” Steve said, backpedaling. He set his beer down on one of the damp coasters on the burgundy wood tabletop, then picked it up again to take a sip--probably just so he wouldn’t have to come up with a better answer.

“No, watch our--” Bucky broke off to make a large, encompassing gesture. “--backs,” he finished.

Steve mumbled something into the lip of his beer mug.

Will was eyeing Steve with mingled amusement and thoughtfulness, his head cocked to one side. He had a wonderfully expressive face, Bucky noticed--like Danny Kaye; not exactly beautiful or handsome but sensitive, mobile, clever. He’d always liked a face like that, a face upon which you could see thoughts pass like scudding clouds.

Steve had a face like that--at least to him; he’d learned over the years to close it off to anyone who didn’t really know him. But Bucky could read him in any sideways twitch of the mouth or eyebrow. He had an almost childlike innocence, he thought, in the way he let his shifts of weight, the movements of his strong new body, display how he felt. Maybe everyone missed that because they didn’t expect it. Will seemed to read him all right.

There was no one at the dartboard, so Bucky and Will made their way over, extracting darts from the little cork board beside the numbered wheel. He grinned at Will and took a handful of darts from him, pressing his fingers against his palm.

“Found a challenger, Appleby?”

Will grinned and turned to the landlord, who was propped behind the bar, stacking glasses onto the low shelf underneath.

“Hardly,” he said. “Just a chap willing to let me trounce him.”

“Yeah, I’m sure going up against me will be the best mistake you’ve ever made,” Bucky said.

“You may well smile _now_ ,” said the landlord, chuckling. The trio of bottles in his hand clinked hollowly as he gestured towards a notice pinned to the wall next to the dartboard. “Just you have a read of that. Appleby’s a sly bugger; I’ve seen him nab a perfect one-eighty after -- how many pints, eh?”

“Just the two,” said Will in a show of modesty, lowering his eyes. The next second he was upright, however, and _glittering_ with mischief. “Up for a challenge, Barnes?”

Bucky could see the scoreboard even from afar. He nodded smartly, palmed a dart, gripped it, and flung it at the paper. Will followed its path rather more leisurely.

“You missed me,” he said, tugging out the dart and squinting at the neat hole in the paper just above his own name, pinned beneath the printed words _Reigning Champion_.

“Nope,” said Bucky, grabbing the dart back when Will offered it. “That’s where I was aiming.”

Will drew his hand back and folded his arms. “Well perhaps you should put your money where your mouth is.” There was the barest hint of mirth playing around his own lips. He moved back and graciously allowed Bucky to step up to the worn line on the floor.

“I prefer to put my mouth where your money is,” said Bucky. He raised a dart and closed one eye. “Your wallet anyhow.” The dart thudded into the board but he was already glancing askance: Steve, leaning against the bar, wore an expression of faint embarrassment. But he was biting his lip, too, and he’d been watching _intently_.

“All right, not bad.” Will grinned, unfolding his arms. “ _If_ that’s what you were aiming for.”

“A bullseye? Of _course_.”

“It isn’t the highest score,” Will pointed out.

“Yes,” Bucky said, “But it’s so satisfying. To hit right in the middle like that.”

“Dead centre.” Will nodded. “Bet you can’t do it again.”

“Oho, what do you bet?”

“What’ve you got?”

“Whatever I’ve got is probably black market goods around here,” Bucky said, “Anyhow, the real question is what you’ve got--I mean I bet it’ll come down to _that_ in the end.”

Will’s smirk suddenly brightened into a grin. “Black market goods, eh?” he said thoughtfully. “So I wasn’t _too_ far wide of the mark when I asked about your nylons.” The grin turned wicked as Bucky shook his head, equal parts exasperated and thrilled. Will elbowed him. “Buck up -- you’re stalling. Make the throw, I’ll decide what you’ve _got_ once I beat you.”

“We’ll see,” Bucky said.

“Americans coming in trying to steal our thunder,” Will said.

“Naw,” Bucky said, “We’re just here to help out. International cooperation.”

“Big of you,” Will said, quirking an eyebrow, and Bucky shot a glance at Steve.

“Well, Captain America, you know. He’s all about raising _morale_.”

“Is he, now?”

Bucky supposed Steve didn’t look entirely comfortable. But he also knew how Steve could be; he was coming around. He had on his watchful face, leaning one elbow on the bar. “You shouldda seen the USO show.”

They made their first tosses--triple twenty for Will right off, and Bucky’s first score just two points behind. After a few tosses, Steve pushed himself away from the bar and came up to retrieve their clustered darts. Bucky reached out to take his, but Steve didn’t let go right away. Instead he smiled, and the slight flick of his eyes down and then up made Bucky keep watching closely as he turned to Will. His hand lingered in Will’s too, just for a moment. Will’s face turned up, but Steve’s attention was already back on Bucky, as if asking whether he’d done it right. Bucky shook him by the arm.

“Come on.”

They moved back to the bar, where Bucky found Steve had about drained his beer. He tipped his head back to get the dregs of it, and when he put the mug down he saw Steve wrinkling his nose at him, just a little. Bucky made a face back: _I’m good_. Will was watching them.

“All right,” Steve said slowly. “I’m impressed.”

“I don’t mean to brag,” Will said, “but--”

“But that’s exactly what you mean to do,” Bucky said, clinking his empty beer tankard with Will’s.

“What can I say,” Will said, “I know how to hit for a six.”

“Or a triple twenty. What’s the score?”

“Dead on even, I think,” Will said. “Two-eighty each.” They’d been starting each round at five-oh-one, looking for a challenge.

“You’re both good,” Steve said, “Very good.”

“We need something to make it harder,” Bucky said, nudging Steve with an elbow. “Or I’m gonna need some luck to get a leg up on you,” he told Will.

“All right, then, another round on me?” Steve said, and Will smiled. Bucky let out a breath and relaxed, shoulder to shoulder against Steve, smiling in the orange light of the bar, a light that had warmth to it and a smell of yeasty beer and wet wool and polished wood and brine from olives and pickled onions behind the bar. When their drinks came, Steve slid Bucky’s over to him and Bucky ducked his head to take a sip, grinning up through his foam mustache; and he saw Steve put his arm briefly around Will’s shoulders while he passed him his beer.

It didn’t make him jealous, no, not exactly, but it tightened something inside him like the slow relief of easing back a trigger. Or no. Not that. Not that but a key turning in a lock, Steve’s arm around Will’s slighter shoulders, and Will turning to smile at him, just a hint of wariness in his expressive mouth.

“Cheers,” Will said, and Steve let go quickly, flushed with relief after his own daring, and Bucky smiled too and they drank to warm confusion. To nothing in particular. To unarticulated expectation.

“Hey, Captain,” he said, sliding his handful of darts off the slick bartop and into his hand. He held them up for Steve. “I need some luck with this guy.” He pantomimed huffing a breath and Steve obligingly bent forward to blow hot across the darts in Bucky’s hand. He thought of it, a caught fistful of wind, the billow of a parachute. Luck.

Will, meanwhile, held up a forestalling hand as he avidly drained his beer. He set it down on the bar top with a thump. “I accept my handicap,” he proclaimed, after he’d recovered from the long swig. He wiped his mouth off with his hand. His fingers were quick, Bucky noticed. Steve’s hands were… not slow, no; but careful. Will made gestures sure as the flight of a plane in wind. “You’ll need it.”

But Bucky won that round anyway; he hit the bullseye while Will’s dart stuck in the thin ring just around it, scoring twenty-five points to Bucky’s fifty.

“Hard luck,” Bucky said.

“Hard wallop,” Will said.

“What now?”

“The _drink_.”

Steve had come up behind them so quietly Bucky’d hardly noticed; he jumped at the brush of Steve’s hand on his back. Steve gave him a look, his fierce watch-me-prove-this look; and ducked his head toward Will. “It wasn’t really fair,” he said. Bucky thought, _oh yes. Fair_. “I gave Bucky good luck but I didn’t for you.” He had something in his hand, which he moved forward to tuck surely into Will’s breast pocket. Bucky bit his lip at the intent look on Steve’s face.

The landlord had come around the bar again, wiping his hands on his apron, and Steve stepped swiftly back from Will. Bucky nodded at them both and then turned to squint at the board, twirling the dart he held idly between the pads of his finger and thumb, getting the feel for it. A little drunk like he was, the feel of the brass of the dart shaft focused him, cold metal against his fingers. He shut one eye, opened it--

“Last call for orders!” said the landlord, and the warm bar roared back at him and his hand jerked; the dart went wide of his aim.

“Dammit,” Bucky said. Will clapped him on the back, and Steve shook his head, smiling probably at the look of intense frustration Bucky knew had clouded his face. He’d never been a gracious loser--back home when they’d played poker he’d been prone to throwing his cards down in a huff and stalking out to the fire escape to smoke.

“I suppose I’ll be seeing those black market goods,” Will said.

Bucky said, “No, I was winning. What’s the score?”

“Seventy-one ninety?”

“It was not.” Bucky squinted, trying to remember; even his usually steady grip on arithmetic had deserted him. He moved his lips, counting under his breath. “Sixty, plus…. the fifty and then…”

“I tell you I’m winning,” Will said; but the throw he made following this pronouncement drifted just as wide as Bucky’s had, scoring only a fifteen, and he failed to make a double on his next throw, too.

Bucky nudged him with his shoulder, getting in position for his turn. He paused, trying to clear his head. “You are not.”

“Well if you ask me,” Will pointed out. “What’m I to say--”

Steve’s hand landed on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Gentlemen,” he said, plucking the dart out of Bucky’s hand. “Mind if I step in?” He tossed it with a light, easy snap. It landed on the bullseye.

“That was quite well done,” Will said, sounding a little choked.

Bucky tried to come up with a suitable response, but anything he might’ve thought of was drowned out by the clang of the closing bell and the landlord’s raucous call of “Time, gentlemen, please!”


	4. Chapter 4

Steve smiled as he held the door open. Will came through first, brushing his fingers across the front of Steve’s jacket as he passed by. Bucky followed close behind with a hopeful look on his face. 

Will waited on the pavement a few paces away. If he knew that their activities for the night hung in the balance, his expression gave no hint of it. Once they’d stepped away from the door, Bucky stood very still, head tipped to one side, watching Steve, waiting.

“There’s just one problem,” Steve said quietly.

“Sorry, I—You were so quiet in the pub. I wasn’t sure—it’s okay.”

Bucky’s expression was all concern, and it made Steve feel bad for teasing. “No, Buck.” He leaned close and whispered in Bucky’s ear. “I just don’t know if I can wait till we get back to the hotel.”

“Yeah?” Bucky tilted back to he could look up at Steve’s face. “ _Yeah?_ ”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Hell, yeah. Let’s go.”

Bucky grinned, then turned away. Steve waited to feel a stab of jealousy that Bucky looked so happy, that he dashed over to throw his arm around Will’s shoulders, but it didn’t come. Instead, Steve felt a rush of excitement and an almost smug satisfaction that he’d been able to put that smile on Bucky’s face.

Steve took a deep breath of the cool evening air—a relief after the closeness inside the pub—and followed in Bucky’s footsteps. Will and Bucky were walking slowly, Bucky’s arm still draped over Will’s shoulders.

“You still up for this?” Bucky said.

“Are you joking?” Will laughed. “As if I’d back out.”

Bucky leaned his dark head close to Will’s bright one and whispered, “I want to see you give ‘im a suckjob.”

Steve froze midstep and stood stock-still for a moment, his heart pounding. He hoped the darkness hid his blush.

“Or whatever you call it in British,” Bucky continued.

Steve glanced at the other departing pub patrons, but Bucky’d spoken quietly, and there was no one close enough to have heard. Probably before the serum, Steve himself wouldn’t have been able to hear it.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Will elbowed Bucky in the ribs. “Or perhaps it’s that we spend less time talking about them and more time giving them.”

Bucky’s answering laugh told Steve Bucky’d had one pint too many—his laughter sounded different somehow when he was drunk. But he’d been careful. And he was having fun.

Will looked over his shoulder at Steve with a sly grin, making his heart race even faster. As Will turned, Bucky’s arm fell away, and he spun and started to walk backwards. His eyes bounced back and forth between Will and Steve as Steve caught up. Then he fixed his gaze on Will. “You done anything like this before?”

Will seemed to consider the question before answering. “In a manner of speaking.”

Bucky and Steve exchanged a look.

“A pongo and his girl,” Will said.

“Pongo?” Steve said.

Will smiled at him. “An army man.”

“ _That’s_ the part you’re curious about?” Bucky laughed. “What about the _girl_?”

“Of course, most of _her_ charms went over my head,” Will said, “but I can still appreciate the look of the thing.”

“The aesthetics,” Bucky suggested.

“Precisely.”

Bucky looked at Steve and shrugged. He paused to turn around, falling into place next to Will again, with Steve lagging a step behind.

“I was in it for the lad, of course,” Will explained. “But that wasn’t what they had in mind at all.”

Will wasn’t exactly crowing, and Bucky must have picked up on that too. He peeked over his shoulder, but Steve didn’t feel particularly concerned. Even if Will had one bad experience, he certainly seemed enthusiastic about trying again.

“In fact, to avoid any similar misunderstandings,” Will said, “is there a plan of campaign here? I won’t go where I’m not wanted.”

“You mean you won’t come where you’re not wanted?” Bucky shot back.

He was too loud, and Steve scanned the street, but it was filled with shops that been closed for hours. No one else was around.

Will put his arm around Bucky’s shoulders. He was a few inches shorter, so he had to reach up to do it. “You mentioned a suckjob . . .”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Bucky said. His voice was quieter now. “Anything with mouths is fine.” He tossed another flirtatious glance over his shoulder at Steve. “Just no, ah, sp—” He broke off.

Will’s head tilted to one side. “No _spuh_? Can’t say I’m familiar with the term.”

With a ripple of nervous laughter, Bucky ducked his head. “You know.”

Still smiling, Will squinted back at Steve. “I’d rather know now than later, when we might be more _fully occupied_.”

Steve’s face was growing warm, but his dick stirred at the thoughts Will’s teasing tone brought to mind.

Bucky nodded before leaning down to talk right into Will’s ear. “Fine, the word I was looking for was screwing.”

“Right you are,” Will answered promptly. He let his arm fall off Bucky’s shoulder and slowed down to fall in step with Steve. “So we’re all on the same page?”

Steve nodded, his face burning now.

“Nothing you’d like to add?”

Steve shook his head.

“I saw you were rather taken aback yesterday, and I—”

Steve cut him off. “Oh, no, that wasn’t—I mean, I want—that is, yes. Yeah, we’re all on the same page.”

“That’s all right then.” Will put a hand on his arm. “For the record, I’m very glad you came around. Very glad indeed.”

Steve’s blush, which had started to fade, came back in full force, but he was grateful that Will had skated right over the awkwardness. He forced himself to look Will in the eye. “What about you?” Steve said. “Anything _you_ want to add?”

Will smiled—a softer expression than Steve seen him wear thus far. “The fact that you’d even ask—”

“Yeah, Steve’s all about being fair,” Bucky said. He shoved between the two of them and prodded them forward, giving Steve a sideways grin. “Wait’ll you see.”

*****

It was a relief to lock the door behind them, but Steve didn’t remember the hotel room being so small when he and Bucky were getting ready earlier that evening. Even Bucky had fallen silent, though he was still grinning. He was watching Steve.

“May I take your coat?” Steve’s voice came out too loud and too formal, but Will smiled and started to shrug out of his jacket. As Steve grabbed the collar, his fingers brushed the red curls at the nape of Will’s neck. He wanted to touch them again, more deliberately, but could feel Bucky’s eyes on him. So he turned to the tiny wardrobe in the corner and fumbled inside for an empty hanger. The coat’s lining and thick leather made it surprisingly heavy.

“Hey.” Bucky crossed to Will and flipped up the flap of the left breast pocket of his uniform jacket. “What’d Steve give you anyway?”

He pulled out the Captain America trading card Steve had tucked in there earlier. It was one he actually liked because Bucky was in the picture too. It was his teen alter ego from the comics, but Steve didn’t mind that. It made him think of Bucky’s kindness to Billie.

Bucky smiled sidelong at Steve, but the smile slid off his face in surprise as Will plucked the card out of his hand. “I’ll have that back, if you don’t mind,” Will said, sliding the card back into his pocket and buttoning the flap securely. “Not that I think I’ll need anything to remind me of tonight.”

Bucky’s grin reappeared.

“So, Barnes,” Will said conversationally. “Do I get to see your tights now?” Steve had begun to slide off Bucky’s uniform jacket, and Bucky’s shoulders shook against his hands as he laughed. Will took a couple of steps closer. “I could make sure your seams aren’t crooked.”

“Oh, my seams are straight,” Bucky said. “Don’t you worry. Maybe you should let me check yours?” His aggressive bravado made Steve smile—only Bucky would find fun in competitiveness over imaginary hosiery. Then Bucky continued, with a sly glance in Steve’s direction. “Steve’ll help.”

Steve made himself busy hanging Bucky’s jacket in the wardrobe. By the time he turned back, Will had his dress jacket off and held it out for Steve to take.

“And anyway,” Bucky said. “You didn’t win.”

After getting Will’s jacket put away, Steve slipped off his own.

“Neither of us won,” Will insisted.

“Steve won,” Bucky said, and Steve dropped the jacket on the floor. He turned slowly and found both Bucky and Will eyeing him.

Bucky’s tongue slid out to wet his lower lip. “Steve always wins. He won _me_ , after all.” He said it in a cocky, teasing way to make Will laugh. Steve could only respond with what he was certain was a dopey smile.

“In my experience,” Will said, “winning traditionally means a _prize_.”

“Yeah, tradition. Gotta follow tradition, Steve,” Bucky said. “When in Rome and all.”

“But we’re in London,” Steve pointed out.

“Long-established London tradition, this.” Will nodded firmly. “Time-honored.”

“Fair’s fair,” Bucky said. “You won. You gotta let us treat you right.” He jostled Will with his elbow and spoke in a stage whisper: “And I’ll tell you a secret: Steve’s not wearing any tights.”

They were both still looking right at Steve. What the hell was he supposed to do?

He took two slow steps toward them. Bucky smiled at him brightly. Steve reached out to take his hand, and as he gave it a squeeze, Will stepped close to Bucky, his face tilted up. Steve was sure he was going in for a kiss and steeled himself, but Will abruptly changed directions, pushing right up to press his lips hot against Steve’s. It was a good kiss, but Steve felt frozen. He could only think of Bucky, standing there watching.

When Will pulled away, Steve’s gaze immediately went to Bucky’s face. He was still smiling, and his eyes sparkled. He breathed out Steve’s name, and Steve reached out to him, but Bucky grabbed his arm and wrapped it around Will’s waist. “C’mon.”

Steve took a deep breath. If Bucky wanted to watch, Steve would just have to give him something worth seeing. He put his other arm around Will, using his height to tilt him back. Then slowly, slowly, he bent his head and sealed his mouth to Will’s. Will put one hand on the back of Steve’s neck, and when his tongue swiped across Steve’s lips, Steve slid his own tongue out to meet it.

Will’s tongue glided playfully along Steve’s. It made Bucky’s voice echo in Steve’s head. _Would you let him suck you while I watch?_. Then on the walk here, telling Will what he wanted to see, and Will’s wicked grin as he eyed Steve over one shoulder. Steve pulled Will closer. He sighed as Steve dove in for another kiss.

“Wow,” Bucky said next to Steve’s ear. “ _Wow_.” Steve pulled away to look at him, and he rolled his eyes. “That wasn’t a cue to _stop_.” He prodded Steve back toward Will with a hand in the middle of his back. “I was just admiring the view.”

Steve tore his eyes away from Bucky and found Will watching them, clearly amused. He tugged Steve back down, plunging his tongue between his lips. When Steve opened his eyes a moment later—just a slit—Bucky was still right there beside them, rapt, but the next time Will came up for air, Steve grabbed Bucky for a kiss before gently tugging at the knot of Bucky’s tie. Bucky twitched slightly, then went still and let Steve slip the tie out from under his collar and open the first couple of buttons. Once his body relaxed, Steve kissed him again, holding his face in both hands.

Bucky smiled up at him. “We’re ignoring our new friend over there.”

Steve looked over at Will, who spread his hands as if to say, _Don’t stop on my account_. But Steve didn’t want him to feel left out. “Okay, then,” Steve whispered. “Go give him some attention.” Bucky’s eyebrows went up, and Steve huffed out a laugh. “Go on.”

As Bucky crossed the floor, Steve could actually see Will’s chest moving as his breathing quickened. Steve’s breath came fast in sympathy. Bucky put a hand on each of Will’s shoulders and turned him—he was making sure Steve could see every detail. A smoldering ember of jealousy flickered in Steve’s gut as he watched Bucky lean in and press his lips to Will’s, but it burned out quickly. It was truly wonderful to watch: Bucky intent, his dark lashes brushing his cheek. A glimpse of his tongue as he teased it into Will’s mouth. Will made a happy-sounding noise as Bucky slid one arm around his back.

Steve stepped close, wanting desperately to touch but not knowing where to put his hands. Still tight in a kiss with Will, Bucky reached out and fisted one hand in the front of Steve’s shirt. When he lifted his head, he pulled Steve in, kissed him hard, then tugged on his shirt, manhandling him until he was facing Will once again.

“You really do like watching, huh?” Steve said.

“Yeah, I do.” Bucky yanked again at Steve’s shirtfront. “So shut up and give me a show.”

Will laughed. “A regular vaudeville.” He cocked his head in expectation.

Bucky moved his hand from Steve’s chest to his hip, nudging him forward. Steve kept his gaze locked on Bucky’s, bending his head to kiss Will but not shutting his eyes until the last second. He moved slowly and deliberately, exploring Will’s mouth gently, until Will lunged up to nip at Steve’s bottom lip. It took Steve by surprise, but he liked it. And Bucky must have liked seeing it—his hand clamped on Steve’s hip. Steve glanced over at him, reaching out to slide one hand up the side of his neck, fingers curling around to cup the back of his head.

Will kissed Steve again, but Bucky distracted him by pushing close to suck at the skin just below his ear. Steve tilted his head, leaning in to let Bucky get at his favorite spot, but when he realized he was pulling away from Will, he turned his head back to kiss him.

Bucky’s hand snaked between them to tug at Steve’s tie. Steve took a half-step back to give him room to work open the knot. As Bucky pulled the tie away, Will started on the buttons on Steve’s shirt.

“Let me,” Bucky said. He grabbed Steve’s hand to undo the button on his cuff.

After one more kiss, Will stepped back with a feral smile, his eyes scanning over Steve’s body as Bucky tugged the shirt off his shoulders and yanked his undershirt over his head.

“Look at you.” Will gave a slight shake of his head. “Haven’t you Yanks ever heard of rationing?”

“It’s vitamins,” Bucky insisted. “I told you, just vitamins.” He was smiling at Will, watching his reaction carefully as he reached for Steve’s belt buckle. Will’s eyes locked on the movement of Bucky’s fingers.

Steve grabbed Bucky, who tilted his face up for a kiss but moved away swiftly, bending to lift Steve’s feet in turn and pull his shoes off. He stood, circling around to stand beside Steve. He put one hand on Steve’s lower back and with the other opened his fly. Then he paused, his head still bowed, glancing up at Will through his eyelashes.

“You ready?” Bucky asked.

“Geez, Bucky, don’t—”

Will’s laughter smothered Steve’s protest, and Bucky joined in. Will was looking at Steve like he was the best thing since sliced bread. It was kind of embarrassing, like Bucky was putting him on display, but Steve’s breath had sped up, and his dick was tenting the front of his boxers.

Being looked at like that—it wasn’t something Steve was used to. He’d gotten his fill of shallow attraction while on tour with the USO, though he didn’t feel like that was all Will saw. It was a surprisingly good feeling. Maybe that was why Bucky liked flirting so much, Steve realized, and why he missed going on dates.

“I’m more than ready,” Will said. He’d loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar. Steve wanted to kiss the pale skin of his throat, but he was standing out of reach.

Bucky’s thumb hooked into the waistband of Steve’s pants. “You ready?” he whispered.

Steve turned to look at him. There was a question in Bucky’s expression—one last chance to back out.

Steve grabbed his head, kissed him, and said, “More than ready.” He caught only a glimpse of Bucky’s smile before he ducked down, taking Steve’s trousers and boxers all at once, nudging at Steve’s calves until he lifted his feet. Bucky pulled the tangled mess of clothes away, and Steve stood in the middle of the floor, naked. Again, Bucky’s hand came to rest on the small of Steve’s back.

Will approached slowly, his eyes sweeping hungrily over Steve’s skin. There was nothing embarrassing about the attention now—Steve felt his gaze like a physical touch sliding over his ribs, down his thighs. He was tempted to meet Will halfway, but he didn’t want to move away from the reassuring warmth of Bucky’s hand.

As soon as Will stepped within reach, Steve grabbed him, bending down to kiss his neck, fumbling with another button and tugging his undershirt aside so that he could move his mouth over his collarbone. Will’s hands were distracting, eagerly roving where his eyes had gone before, stroking down Steve’s chest and sides.

“What did you think about what I said back by the pub?” Bucky said quietly. Steve lifted his head to look at him, but his eyes had fixed on Will.

Will pulled back and looked at Bucky with raised eyebrows. “Is that my cue? You seem to have this bit planned out.”

“Well, it was a pretty good plan.” Bucky grabbed Will’s tie and tugged him in for a kiss. “If I do say so myself.”

Will started to crouch, but Bucky still had ahold of his tie and kept him close. “Nice and slow, huh?” Bucky said.

“Whatever do you take me for,” Will murmured, smirking.

Steve swallowed.

With a chuckle, Will wrapped his hand around the back of Bucky’s neck and kissed him, sucking on his tongue until he moaned. Then Will slipped his tie free from Bucky’s fingers and knelt. Steve let out an embarrassingly high pitched noise when Will’s lips closed around his dick.

Will started slow, just as Bucky’d asked, with languid glides of his tongue and then a leisurely retreat to suck gently at the tip before he took Steve deep, his lips tight around the shaft. Steve tried to keep still, but it felt so _good_. His hips kept hitching forward like they had a mind of their own, and Will grabbed them, encouraging Steve to thrust into his mouth, to move faster. Steve stifled a groan and let his head fall back onto Bucky’s shoulder.

“So he wasn’t all talk, huh?” Bucky said. “He’s good at this?”

Steve jerked his head in a nod, and Bucky chuckled, rubbing one hand up over Steve’s ribs. It wasn’t that Will was _better_ , just different. Bucky took things slow, settling in like he had all day, and it was astonishing to be the focus of his intense concentration. But when Steve felt ready to explode—like he already did—it was exciting to have Will matching his pace, head bobbing quickly, his tongue somehow everywhere at once.

Steve lifted his head and forced his eyes open. Bucky was right there, glued to Steve’s side, looking down at Will. His dick poked through his trousers at Steve’s hip. Steve twisted so he could kiss him without pulling away from Will, resting one hand on Bucky’s shoulder to steady himself. When their lips parted, Bucky laughed breathlessly. “Some supersoldier you are. You can barely stand.”

“I—” Steve kissed Bucky again. “I just—”

“S’okay.” Bucky ran a hand over Will’s hair. “How about we let him sit?”

Will hummed agreeably, and Steve shivered at the vibration. Then Will pulled off, leaving Steve exposed to the cool air. Steve wanted to grab him, kiss him, do _something_ , but he’d already moved aside.

Bucky tugged at Steve’s arm, leading him toward the bed. “Come on, pal. Sit.”

Steve took one step, realized that he couldn’t feel the rug under his feet, and looked down. “Bucky? You left my socks on?”

Bucky laughed—his real laugh: he wasn’t tipsy anymore—and let go of Steve’s arm. Steve quickly bent to peel off his socks.

“I had other things on my mind,” Bucky said as he pushed Steve down on the bed. He propped one knee on the mattress next to Steve, kissed him, and wrapped his fingers around Steve’s dick. “Bigger things.” He rubbed his thumb over the slit, then spread the slickness he found there around the tip, murmuring, “Yeah, that’s good.” He looked over his shoulder at Will. “You game for more?”

“I’m always game.” Without further preamble, Will fell to his knees and crawled forward. Steve thought of Bucky on the floor just like that, teasing, weeks ago: _He’d be on his knees, just like this, begging you to let him suck your dick._ He jerked in Bucky’s hand, but Bucky kept a good grip, holding the shaft while Will wrapped his mouth around the head, teasing the ridge with his tongue. Steve groaned.

“It’s good, isn’t it? You like it?” Bucky whispered, right in Steve’s ear.

“I—” Steve couldn’t think. “Oh, God. Bucky—” He tilted his face up blindly, and Bucky kissed him, holding the back of his head with his free hand.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Bucky murmured against Steve’s mouth. “It’s so—it’s amazing.”

His fingers pushed down to the base of Steve’s dick, then right up to Will’s lips with a squeezing slide, just as Will sucked hard. Pleasure crashed through Steve’s body, and he smashed his mouth against Bucky’s so he wouldn’t cry out. Bucky moved his hand to let Will lower his head, pushing Steve’s dick to the back of his throat and coaxing another surge out of him. Steve groaned with the third wave, his legs shaking when he pushed up into the heat of Will’s mouth, then slumped against Bucky.

Bucky’s fingers carded through his hair, and his voice sounded deeper than normal with Steve’s ear pressed right to his the front of his shirt. “Don’t worry, he’ll be ready to go again in no time.” Bucky pushed Steve away gently, keeping him steady with a hand on each shoulder, then kissed him. “You always gotta get your sundae first, don’t ya?” He smiled down at Steve fondly.

Steve fell forward to press his cheek against Bucky’s chest again but forced his eyes open to see Will smiling too. Steve couldn’t feel embarrassed about being so fast when they were looking at him like that.

“Wait a minute.” Steve’s voice came out gruff. “Why are you both wearing so many clothes?”

Will’s smile brightened. After a quick glance at Bucky—to make sure he was watching—Steve leaned down to kiss Will, reaching for the buttons on his shirt. Once he had it open, he yanked on it, pulling the bunched fabric out of his waistband. Will stood, letting the shirt fall from his shoulders.

Steve turned back to Bucky. He was already bare to the waist, and when he got his belt unbuckled, Steve took over, tearing open his fly and shoving his hand inside to rub at Bucky’s dick through his boxers. Bucky hooked one hand around Steve’s neck and reeled him in for a kiss. Steve let Bucky hold him for a few moments, then knelt in front of him, pulled his dick free of his clothes, and bent his head, careful to move slowly as he took Bucky into his mouth. Over his head, he could hear Bucky’s deliberate deep breaths.

Bucky moved his feet apart and jutted his hips forward. “Always in a hurry,” he teased. Steve peeked up. Bucky was looking at Will—showing off for him—but Steve didn’t mind, especially when Bucky’s hands slid through his hair, holding him back a little. He never could keep things slow for long.

“Hey,” Bucky said. “C’mere.”

Will was only a couple steps away, but it seemed like it took him a long time to approach. Then Steve felt his fingers weave between Bucky’s in his hair and pulled back in time see Will lean in and kiss Bucky. Closing his eyes again, Steve licked up the underside of Bucky’s dick, which made his breath come out all shuddery. Will’s hands withdrew, and Bucky’s gently turned Steve’s head until he faced Will. He’d taken off his undershirt and was toeing off his shoes.

Steve knew what Bucky wanted him to do, but he couldn’t quite make himself just tear open Will’s fly the way he had Bucky’s. Instead, he stood up and waited until Will tugged off his socks and came to stand in front of him, then let himself take a good long look at Will.

Bucky swore up and down that he’d wanted Steve just as much before the serum, but it was difficult to believe. Bucky had always been Steve’s ideal: his strong shoulders and muscled thighs. But now Steve could see the appeal of Will’s lean frame. He wasn’t anywhere near as skinny as Steve had been, but he was finely made. A line of hair ran down over the flat plane of his belly and disappeared under the waistband of his uniform trousers. It wasn’t as bright as the hair on his head, but it had a reddish cast, in sharp contrast with his pale skin. Steve ran his knuckles down over it, and Will shivered.

Bucky came up behind Steve, leaning around to watch, close enough that his dick nudged against Steve’s thigh. Steve leaned back against Bucky’s body, pulling Will to him for a kiss, then working on his buttons. Will stepped away to kick off his pants and came back for more kisses. With Will’s hardness pressing against him in front and Bucky’s pressing against him from behind, Steve started to get hard again himself.

Will felt it right away—there was no way he couldn’t, being so close—and laughed. “My, that _is_ impressive.”

“I told you,” Bucky said. “No time at all.”

“Thank heaven for vitamins,” Will said with another chuckle.

Bucky came around from behind Steve. “The wonders of modern science.”

Steve saw Bucky’s eyes dart down to Will’s crotch, and Will was eyeing him right back. Steve bit back a smile, but he didn’t want there to be a competition about _that_ , so he grabbed both of them around their waists and shoved them together. Bucky looked surprised but obligingly wrapped his arm around Will and kissed him. Steve trailed his hands down their spines, watching them press closer when his hands traced the curves of their asses. He wanted to draw them like that—so different, but with mirror-image postures.

Suddenly Bucky spun Will over to the bed, knocking him off his feet. He fell so hard on the mattress he bounced. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, eyebrows raised expectantly. Bucky jerked his head toward Will, encouraging Steve to go to him. First Steve snuck in another kiss from Bucky, and when he turned, Will was watching them—happily enough, it seemed. He didn’t seem to mind that Steve’s attention was continually drawn back to Bucky.

“C’mon, Steve, you gonna treat Will here to a sundae?”

Will wrinkled his nose at the phrase, but before he could ask anything about it, Steve said, “You gonna help me?”

Bucky smiled. “Yeah, like I said, we’re sharing.”

Steve crawled up onto the bed until he hovered over Will on all fours, straddling his hips. He seemed small compared to Bucky, and Steve didn’t want to crush him. His skin was warm between Steve’s thighs and under his palm as he stroked along his ribs, over his chest, up his neck. Will moved to meet Steve’s hands, clearly enjoying the touch.

Bucky moved to kneel on the bed next to them, running a hand over Steve’s back. “Let him get comfortable at least. His legs are hanging off the bed.”

“You’ll hear no complaints from me,” Will said. He craned upwards to kiss Steve’s neck.

Steve smiled at him, pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then rolled off to the side to let him scoot up until his head came to rest on the pillows. Bucky had settled down on the opposite side of the bed, and he threw his arm over Will’s chest and kissed him. Steve propped himself up on one elbow to watch the play of their mouths, reaching over Will’s legs to touch Bucky’s hip. Bucky kept right on kissing Will, but his hand came to rest over Steve’s and gave it a squeeze.

Now that Will was higher on the bed, Steve’s head was level with his ribcage, so he only had to shift slightly lower: he wanted to give him a suckjob, and not just to be fair. He liked doing it to Bucky, and he wanted to try it with Will, to feel him react—he was very responsive—but it wasn’t easy to just dive right in. On the other hand, asking permission seemed ridiculously formal, and so far everything had simply . . . happened. Easy and companionable. Friendly. So Steve could be _friendly_ , right?

Will’s dick was flushed dark pink, jutting out eagerly so that Steve didn’t have to bend his head very far to give an experimental swipe to the tip of it with his tongue. Will moaned into Bucky’s mouth. It made Steve brave—not that he’d really expected Will to object. Steve sucked at the tip gently, and Will’s hips pushed up, shoving his dick deeper into Steve’s mouth. Steve sucked harder, and Will moaned again. Bucky’s hand rested on Steve’s shoulder, then on the back of his head, and Bucky let out a groan too. The noises from both of them—Steve was hard as a rock now. He pulled off Will so that he could shove between his legs and lie down, pushing his own hips into the mattress.

Steve tried all the things Bucky liked best: mouthing up the shaft slowly, sucking at the tip, then stroking with one hand while he nuzzled at Will’s balls. He lifted his head to see how Will liked it. His head was thrown back, so all Steve could see was the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed and let out another unsteady breath.

Steve shifted his gaze to look at Bucky and froze. Bucky was watching, his mouth pressed into a hard line.

“Bucky?”

Immediately Bucky shook his head, trying to shake off whatever had made his face look like that. He slid down Will’s body until he was close enough to grab Steve’s jaw and kissed him hard. Steve pulled away, studying Bucky’s expression.

“It’s okay,” Bucky whispered. “I promise.”

Steve glanced nervously at Will. His hand was still gripping Will’s dick, and Bucky leaned down and wrapped his mouth around it, his lips pressing up against Steve’s fingers, making Will gasp. Bucky lifted his head to kiss Steve and whispered, “Shared experience, right?”

Steve nodded. He moved his hand away when Bucky bent down to take Will into his mouth again. When Bucky pulled off, he stole another kiss, and Steve made himself stop worrying. He leaned in and sucked Will’s dick into his mouth.

“Oh, God.” Will was speaking in panting breaths. “That’s—”

Bucky laughed. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” He nudged Steve out of the way, wrapping his fingers around the shaft and massaging it while he teased at the foreskin with his tongue. Will’s moans were almost continuous now, but Bucky stopped and turned to flash an arch look at Steve. “Those are some pretty good noises, there.”

Steve dove in for a quick kiss, then took a turn with Will, taking him as deep as he could and sucking hard, moving his head quickly, like Will had done to him earlier. Will’s fingers grabbed at Steve’s hair, and he cried out. Steve pulled off to glance at Bucky. “That was an even better noise.”

“Oh, you think so?” Bucky said. “Move outta the way.” He shoved at Steve until he gave up his place between Will’s legs. But before Bucky could get started, Steve pushed close and kissed him, reaching down to slide his hand over Bucky’s straining erection. “Share and share alike,” Steve whispered, and Bucky smiled, his eyes still closed.

Steve turned and found Will watching them, hair clinging darkly to his forehead. Steve wrapped his other hand around Will’s dick, but just as he did so, Bucky moved away. He prodded Steve up toward the head of the bed—“Go on, go kiss him”—and settled between Will’s legs. Will groaned as Bucky put his mouth around him.

When Steve looked down into Will’s face, he smiled up weakly. His hair was a mess from tossing his head around, and his cheeks were pink. He looked like he could finish any second, though he responded immediately to Steve’s kiss, snaking one arm around Steve’s neck and sliding his tongue into his mouth. Steve tucked his hand under Will’s head to cradle the back of it. With another moan, Will tilted his neck back. He seemed to like Steve’s fingers in his hair, so Steve tightened his grip, using it to steer Will’s mouth back to his. His arm went rigid around Steve’s neck, and an almost tortured groan clawed its way out of his throat.

Steve tugged again at his hair again, forcing his head back farther so he could suck at the tender skin below his jaw. Will cried out, and his whole body went taut. Steve turned his head to watch his hips thrusting up, to see Bucky’s face as he struggled to match his erratic rhythm. Then Will seemed to melt into the bed, boneless, his arm falling away from Steve’s neck and his legs sprawling awkwardly to either side of Bucky’s torso. Bucky grinned smugly up at Steve, who didn’t bother pointing out that he’d _helped_.

Steve turned back to Will for another kiss. “So,” Steve said, “it was . . . good?”

Will’s laughter came out in panting breaths. “Are you having me on?”

Bucky was up on his knees behind Steve, shoving him down onto the bed on his side and nudging him over onto his back as he bent to press a quick kiss to Will’s mouth. “Of course it was good,” Bucky said, moving in close to Steve. “We make a great team.”

As Bucky crowded in, his dick rubbed against Steve’s thigh.

“Seems like we’re not done yet,” Steve said, shifting his leg to give Bucky some friction. He felt like he’d barely touched Bucky, and when he had, Bucky’d steered him back to Will or managed to slip away from him before very long.

“I need a moment,” Will said. “Not all of us have your stamina.”

Steve fought a smile. “It’s fine.”

“You won’t mind if we . . . ?” Bucky gestured vaguely at Steve.

“Course not,” Will said. His eyes were already half-closed, but he rolled onto his side to face them as Bucky settled more firmly on top of Steve.

Steve was too restless to lie flat, though. He wrapped his arms around Bucky and sat up, then flipped Bucky onto his back and climbed on top of him. Bucky tried to squirm away again, but Steve didn’t let him escape this time. He scrambled to sit on Bucky’s thighs, then wrapped his right hand around both their dicks, stroking them together. After only a few seconds, Bucky relaxed into it, closing his eyes. His only movement was the twitch of his hips up into Steve’s grip.

Bucky’s tongue poked out to wet his lower lip. Steve moved his hand out of the way to bend close for a kiss. He pushed his tongue past Bucky’s lips and was surprised by the earthy, vaguely sweet flavor he found there. “Oh God.”

“Steve?” Bucky’s hand rubbed circles on Steve’s back.

Steve clutched at Bucky’s body, already thrusting gracelessly against him. He pressed his lips against Bucky’s ear. “I can taste him in your mouth.” With another awkward jerk of his hips, Steve was coming, two jolts of sensation that left him shaking.

He lifted his head for a kiss, then pushed himself up on one unsteady arm so he could reach down with his other hand and trail his fingers through the mess on Bucky’s stomach. Bucky was smirking at him, but when Steve wrapped his slick fingers around Bucky’s dick, his mouth fell open. Steve tried to go slow, to make it last, but after only a few strokes, his hand was pumping hard. Bucky kept up with him, his hips lifting off the bed, though his arms were slack at his sides and his head lolled back like he had no control over it.

A long, low moan started deep in Bucky’s throat, gradually getting louder as Steve’s hand went faster; it cut off as Bucky’s body tensed. His dick jerked in Steve’s hand, and Steve kept working him as he came, slowing his movements until Bucky was twitching, too sensitive to stand any more. Steve leaned down for a few more kisses before letting Bucky gently tip him off onto the mattress. Bucky reached over the side of the bed and found an undershirt—Steve couldn’t tell whose it was. After passing it to Steve to clean his hand off, Bucky mopped at the slickness on his belly, grinning up at Steve all the while.

Steve had to shift up to get his head on the pillows, then stretched his arm out so that Bucky could tuck himself under it, his head resting on Steve’s chest. Steve pressed a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head, then suddenly remembered Will. He turned to Will and hesitated for only a moment before lifting his other arm and raising his eyebrows in question. Will took him up on the invitation, putting his head on Steve’s shoulder. Once he settled in, Steve rested his hand over Will’s ribs.

Bucky sat up and grumbled—already half asleep—while he tugged at the covers, which had been pushed to the foot of the bed. But he sighed contentedly as he snuggled back up against Steve’s side. Will had begun to drift off too, but Steve felt wide awake.

A bubble of laughter was trying to float out of Steve’s chest. He didn’t let it—he didn’t want to wake the others. But he felt invigorated. It had been _good_. None of the stuff Steve had been worried about had come up. The few uneasy moments had been fleeting. Even things that maybe should have made him jealous, like licking into Bucky’s mouth and tasting Will’s spunk, had only riled Steve up more—like anything to do with sex and Bucky together bypassed all conscious thought and made some animal part of his brain take over.

Even if Steve didn’t feel like sleeping, it was cozy like this. And maybe if he let them rest, they’d get a little bit of energy back. There was more he wanted to try, especially now that he felt less shy, now that he knew how good it could be. Giving Will a suckjob with Bucky—Steve wanted to do that to Bucky, if Will would go for it. To watch Bucky’s face, to kiss him when he came . . .

Steve gave Bucky’s shoulders a squeeze. He could feel the happy laughter threatening to erupt again. Bucky stirred, opened his eyes, and gave him a sleepy smile. He was out again in seconds, but Steve kissed his forehead anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

Steve woke from a light doze when Will pulled away. “Sorry to wake you, gents,” he said quietly. “One pint too many.”

As Will disappeared into the bathroom, Steve turned to Bucky for a kiss. His eyelids were still drooping, but he gave Steve a lazy smile. Steve rolled closer and wrapped his arm around Bucky’s waist.

“You okay?” Bucky whispered.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Yeah, I’m good. Really good. How about you?”

“I’m great.”

Steve kissed him again just as the bathroom door opened.

Bucky sighed. “My turn.” His fingers brushed over Steve’s shoulder and arm as he pulled himself out of the bed. “Be right back.”

Will’s weight settled on the mattress behind Steve. He turned and found Will perched on the edge of the bed, still stark naked. Steve felt bashful without Bucky there, though maybe that was stupid after all the things they’d done. They exchanged smiles, and Will gestured at the spot next to Steve. “Mind if I . . . ?”

“Yeah, sure.” Steve lifted his arm so that Will could shift close again. He put his head on Steve’s shoulder and ran his hand over Steve’s chest and down his stomach.

“Were you really a little guy?”

“I really was.”

“I can’t imagine that.”

Steve shrugged. It felt lopsided with Will’s head on one shoulder.

“You were smaller than Barnes?”

“Yup.” Steve glanced over at the bathroom door.

“Were you smaller than me?”

Steve had sort of forgotten how much he liked Will’s accent. Listening to him was a pleasure. “Oh, yeah, are you kidding? You’re not scrawny like I was, and I was a lot shorter.”

“So what does Barnes think about the change?”

Steve laughed. “He seems to be taking it in stride.”

Will arched one eyebrow. “I would imagine so.”

His hand swept up over Steve’s chest. The touch was light enough to tickle, so Steve put his own hand over Will’s, pressing it flat over his breastbone. The expression on Will’s face—Steve wanted to kiss him, but he wouldn’t without Bucky there.

As if the thought summoned him, Bucky picked that moment to emerge from the bathroom. He paused when he caught sight of the way Will was snug against Steve’s side. His hesitation didn’t last long though, and Steve let go of Will’s hand to wrap that arm around Bucky when he got back in bed. The moment he pulled the covers up, Steve pressed a slow kiss to his lips. He tasted like tooth powder.

When Steve pulled back, he studied Bucky’s face. He was smiling now—he wasn’t really bothered—so Steve kissed him again, more heatedly this time.

“So.” Bucky’s hand burrowed under the sheet, rubbing over Steve’s belly. “You up for another sundae?”

Steve kissed him again instead of answering

“I have to ask,” Will said. “Is this _sundae_ jargon a thing in America? Because I have to admit, fellas, I’ve never heard of it.”

Steve’s cheeks warmed. It seemed like such a silly thing to have to explain, but Bucky only laughed.

“It was for letters. You know, to get around the censors when Steve was still stateside,” Bucky said. “I wrote about missing ice cream—all melted and sweet in your mouth—cause I couldn’t talk about how much I wanted to kiss him.”

“He told me to treat myself to a sundae,” Steve added.

“That sounds like more than just a kiss,” Will said.

“You got it.” Bucky gave Steve a fond look. “I guess it grew from there. When I first got to England, they actually gave us spam and jam sandwiches, and I told Steve about it—” Bucky stopped and just watched Will for a bit, a small smile on his face, probably figuring Will wouldn’t be able to hear him anyway when he was laughing like he was. When Will’s laughter quieted, Bucky continued. “Yeah, so for us spam has sort of gotten to be—well, that’s what I was going to say before, not _screwing_.”

“Oh, _spuh_.” Will chuckled again. “I see now.”

“It got to where pretty much anything was fair game,” Bucky explained. “Like peaches.”

“Not eggs though,” Steve said.

“And not brisket.” Bucky looked at Will. “In one letter he mentioned my mother’s cooking and ice cream in the same sentence—kind of threw me.”

Will was shaking with mirth along Steve’s side. “Hardly surprising,” he managed.

“C’mon, Buck, I just wasn’t thinking. And I was hungry.”

Bucky laughed.

“It had been hours since dinner,” Steve said. “It’s been hours since dinner _now_.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re getting hungry?”

“Yes.” Steve pulled him close and kissed him, pushing his tongue slowly into his mouth. Will hummed and drew back from Steve’s shoulder.

“Oh, you mean _hungry_ ,” Bucky said when their lips parted. “You’re mixing your metaphors again. Or mixing your metaphor with—”

Steve cut Bucky off with a kiss. “I don’t care.” He kissed Bucky again, then started turning slowly towards Will, giving Bucky plenty of time to call a halt if he didn’t really want another round. Instead Bucky shoved at his side to make him move faster.

Will wrapped his arms around Steve and eagerly returned his kisses. Bucky pressed up close behind—warm skin all down Steve’s back and thighs. He reached over Steve to touch Will, trailing his hand down his side before wrapping his fingers around his dick for a few casual strokes, making Will groan into Steve’s mouth.

Steve wished he could whisper in Will’s ear—to ask him to team up and give Bucky a suckjob—but Will’s arms were tight around his neck and shoulders, and his tongue was gliding along Steve’s. He didn’t want to pull away just yet.

Bucky mouthed at the back of Steve’s neck and over his shoulders, then started moving down his spine. Steve arched his back, and his dick rubbed along Will’s thigh. He twined his fingers in Will’s hair and pulled his head back so that he could kiss the skin of his throat. Will moaned, and Bucky’s mouth lifted away from the small of Steve’s back. A moment later he was hovering over them. “With the sounds I’m hearing, I’m guessing you must be doing something good, Steve.”

“You’re stopping, Barnes?” Will’s voice came out a little breathless. “I thought you lads liked eating jam.”

Steve lifted his head. “Huh?”

“Jam, right?” Will closed his eyes and laughed. “ _Eating jam_ —is that not part of your code?”

“What, jam? Yeah, that’s the slick stuff,” Bucky explained. “You know, for when we’re . . . making spam sandwiches.”

“Wait a minute, I thought that’s what you _meant_ by spam and jam sandwiches,” Will said. “You didn’t mean—I thought you said jam because of _eating jam_.”

“Other people say that?” Steve said, at the same time as Bucky’s, “What’s it mean?”

A slow smile spread across Will’s face. “I think I’d rather show you than tell you.” He pushed at Steve’s shoulders. “Here, let me get up.”

“Wait,” Steve said. “Buck, I was gonna—”

But Bucky interrupted. “Later, okay?” He rubbed his leg against Steve’s. “I wanna see this. I have a feeling it’s gonna be good.”

“Here,” Will said. He bumped Steve’s back gently with his knuckles. “Lie down.” Steve started to pivot on his knees so he could turn and recline on the pillows, but Will grabbed his arm. “No, like this.” He guided Steve forward until he was lying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows.

Bucky, lying next to Steve, leaned in for a kiss. It was distracting enough that Steve started in surprise when Will swung a leg over him to sit on his lower back. Steve looked over his shoulder at him. What on earth was he going to do, sitting like that?

“All right?” Will asked. When Steve nodded, Will pushed at his shoulders until he settled down flat on the mattress, his head resting on his forearms and his face turned toward Bucky, who was watching intently. “Just relax.”

Will slid down Steve’s body. He kissed his neck and shoulders, then trailed his tongue down his back. As he moved lower, still straddling Steve, his dick poked at Steve’s ass and thighs. They’d agreed that some things were off limits, but Steve’s heart raced with Will pressed so close.

Will’s hand skimmed over Steve’s ribs and settled on his hip as he moved farther down. His mouth traced intricate patterns along Steve’s spine, moving lower, and lower still, until Steve suddenly understood. “Oh, you’re—you’re not gonna—” The words choked him as Will’s tongue traced down the crack of his ass, feather light.

“Oh, wow,” Bucky said. He hand cupped Steve’s shoulder. “Is that good? Steve, you like it?”

Will’s tongue retraced its path, moving up, and Steve moaned. Will chuckled and his hand rubbed Steve’s thigh. “All right?”

Steve opened his eyes a slit. Bucky wore a wicked smile. Steve nodded weakly.

“He’s good,” Bucky said. “Keep going.”

Will’s hands massaged the muscles of Steve’s thighs, then worked up onto his ass, spreading his cheeks apart. Will pushed his face close, and Steve held his breath. Will’s tongue teased in slow circles, pulling another groan from deep in Steve’s chest. It was different from anything Steve had felt before: soothing—an almost liquid pleasure—but maddeningly good.

“Wow, I bet that feels amazing,” Bucky said. “Warm and wet and— _wow_.”

Will’s tongue circled faster, then pushed inside. Steve turned his face to smother a shout against his arms. His legs spread and his hips rose to meet Will’s mouth, desperate for more of the sensation spreading through his body from Will’s stroking tongue.

Will pulled away. Steve started to object, but Will ran a comforting hand over his back. “Don’t worry, we’re just getting started.” He grabbed Steve’s hips, hiked him up onto his knees, then picked up right where he’d left off, fucking Steve with insistent thrusts of his tongue.

“Oh, oh, Will, that’s—God, _please_.” Steve knew he was babbling but couldn’t stop himself. “Yes, please, I’m gonna—”

Will’s hand snaked between Steve’s legs and wrapped around his dick. It was almost enough to make Steve come, but then Will tightened his fingers right at the base—hard, though not hard enough to hurt. It made the urgency subside, and Steve let out a long, shuddering breath. Will’s tongue explored, licking at Steve’s balls before sliding up to push inside once again.

“Oh, God, Will, that’s— _please_.” Steve bit his lip trying to keep quiet, but it was no use. “Will— _Bucky_. It’s so—Buck, please. _Please_.”

“Please _what_?” Bucky teased. Steve forced his eyes open. Bucky was watching. He breathed out Steve’s name, then let out a groan. Steve realized he was touching himself and pushed up with his arms so he could turn and see. Bucky had both hands wrapped around his dick, stroking slowly. “What do you need, Stevie?”

“Fuck me, please, Buck. I need you to—” Will’s hands clamped tight on Steve’s hips, and his tongue pushed deep. It made Steve shake. He sank down onto his elbows, letting his head hang from his shoulders. “ _Please_.”

“Okay,” Bucky said. “Okay.”

Will straightened, and his hands slid from Steve’s hips up over his back in a slow, soothing glide.

“Okay,” Bucky said again. “Where’s the jam?”

Will let out a snort of laughter at the term.

“In my bag.” Steve pushed himself up onto all fours. “In my bag.”

Bucky jumped off the bed and stuck his hand in among Steve’s clothes.

“Inside pocket.” Steve moaned as Will’s hands skimmed back down his spine, over his ass, down his legs. “C’mon, Bucky, please.”

“All right already, hold your—” Bucky broke off and glared.

Even as far gone as he was, Steve burst out laughing, but he wouldn’t embarrass Bucky in front of Will. “ _Please_ , Buck.”

Bucky crossed the room with two long strides, grabbed Steve, and flipped him over onto his back. But then he didn’t touch him, instead yanking Will up for a kiss, and Steve groaned. “Don’t tease me, Buck, please.”

“Soon, I promise. It’ll be worth the wait.” Bucky turned Will’s head to one side with a hand on his chin so that he could talk right into his ear while still keeping his eyes locked with Steve’s. As Will listened to Bucky’s whispers, his expression turned sly. Steve couldn’t hear anything but his pulse pounding in his ears and the huff of his own breath.

Bucky punctuated his instructions with a playful slap to Will’s ass. Will gave him a shove in retaliation, but he was still smiling and, when Bucky opened the little jar and held it out, didn’t hesitate to dip his fingers into it. Then he turned to Steve. “Your fella has plenty of big ideas.”

Steve sure liked hearing Bucky called _his fella_. He beamed up at him.

“You’re a sap, Rogers,” Bucky said—of course he knew what Steve was thinking. But he was smiling too. “What happened to the begging? You don’t want it anymore?”

“No, I do, _please_ ,” Steve said. He sat up halfway and reached for Bucky, but he shoved his hands away, pushed him back down flat, and looked at Will expectantly.

“Am I up first then?” Will asked.

“Nah, me first.” Bucky bent down and sucked Steve’s dick into his mouth. Steve still hadn’t let out his first sharp breath when he felt Will’s slick hand sliding between his legs. Steve bent one knee and put his foot flat on the bed, encouraging him to keep going. He pushed one finger inside.

“More,” Steve said. “I can take more—please.”

“I see what you mean about this one always rushing,” Will murmured. Bucky hummed in agreement without stopping the steady movements of his mouth. “But I aim to please, so . . .” He slid his finger almost all the way out, then pressed inside with a second.

Steve moved his hips, pushing back onto Will’s fingers and up into the wet heat of Bucky’s mouth. “Okay, good. I’m good. Bucky? Please? Can we—” Steve’s words died in his throat when Bucky grabbed his hips and held them still, sealed his lips around his dick, and sucked hard. “God, okay, please, _please_. I want—” Will’s fingers twisted, strong and slick, working Steve open. “Please, Bucky, now. _Please_.”

Bucky pulled off and got up on his knees and fumbled for the Vaseline to slick himself up. “Wow, you’re bossy.”

“I said _please_ ,” Steve said lamely. And he wasn’t worried—it was obvious from Bucky’s smug tone of voice that he liked getting Steve so desperate.

“You ready?” Bucky asked Will, but he kissed him before he could answer. Then Bucky pushed back between Steve’s legs, lining himself up and starting slow, but Steve couldn’t wait anymore. He hooked one leg around Bucky’s back to pull him closer, groaning as Bucky’s dick pushed deep.

“Whoa, slow down,” Bucky whispered.

It had been too fast, but Bucky held still, letting Steve take a few deep breaths as the tight ache dissipated. Then Bucky slid deeper—no pain now, just exquisite heat and the steady rhythm of Bucky’s slow rocking thrusts.

“Barnes, I’m not sure what you want me to do at the moment.”

“Suckjob, remember?” Bucky said. “I wanna see that.”

Steve moaned at the thought of Will’s mouth on his dick with Bucky deep inside him.

“I can’t get in there,” Will said. “No room. You’d have to—”

“What?” Bucky stopped moving.

Steve tried not to whimper. “Bucky, please.”

“Okay, I see the problem,” Bucky said. “Maybe if we . . .”

“Bucky—”

“It’s okay, buddy, just a sec.” Bucky tried to lean back, but the angle was wrong—he couldn’t move.

Will’s hands gripped Steve’s thigh. “I might be able to manage if you get him up a bit,” Will said as he tugged upward.

“Huh.” Bucky hooked a hand behind each of Steve’s knees, lifting his hips right off the bed. He pulled one leg up onto his shoulder, then shuffled forward so that Steve’s ass could rest on his thighs. “Hey, good idea.”

“As I said, I aim to please,” Will said.

“Where there’s a _will_ there’s a way, huh?”

Will groaned at the pun. “Is there a way to make him stop?”

Steve opened his eyes. Will was smiling down at him. “Kissing,” Steve panted out. “Kissing him shuts him up. At least for a little wh—” Steve cut off when Bucky started moving again.

“What was that, Steve?” Bucky said. “Telling Will how to shut somebody up?”

Will grabbed Bucky by the ears and pulled him down for a kiss. Bucky laughed through it, but his hips never stopped moving with excruciating slowness. Will released Bucky’s head and wrapped his fingers around Steve’s dick. After a few light strokes, he started to bend down, and Steve had to close his eyes—Will’s mouth opening eagerly and Bucky watching, absorbed, his face flushed. It was too much.

Will’s hand tightened, snug pressure around the base of Steve’s dick like he’d done earlier when Steve was close. “Deep breaths,” Will said. Steve obeyed and again got himself under control. But Bucky was still fucking him slowly, and then Will’s mouth closed around Steve’s dick.

“Fuck, that’s good.” Bucky said. “Look at that.”

His thrusts got faster, harder, pounding into Steve and pushing his dick up into Will’s mouth. It was amazing for a few quick thrusts, but Will choked and had to pull off, coughing out an apology.

“It’s okay,” Bucky said. “Me and my bright ideas . . .”

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve begged. He couldn’t move in this position—his hips and feet up off the bed—and it was impossible to wait.

“Don’t worry, Steve. We’ll figure it out.”

“Barnes, has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”

Bucky was quiet then, and Steve managed to open his eyes enough to see Will kissing him. Bucky’s hips began moving again, slowly, and Steve let his head fall back. Will’s hand wrapped around Steve’s dick, stroking in counterpoint to Bucky’s thrusts.

“Yes, like that. Yes, yes.” Steve’s words hissed out between his clenched teeth. Will’s grip tightened. Steve was afraid he was going to try to slow things down again, but instead he quickened his pace for a few beats before switching hands so he could shift up the bed and kiss Steve, who shoved his fingers through Will’s hair and tugged, holding him tight as he plunged his tongue into his mouth.

Bucky cried out—Steve felt his dick pulsing deep inside as he came—and Will’s hand moved faster, pulling Steve right over the edge too. His whole body went taut as his orgasm tore through him, one hard rush of sensation followed close by a second almost as strong. He took a long breath, ready to come down from it, but Will’s hand kept on stroking and teased another spurt out of him, along with a throaty groan, before releasing him.

Bucky pulled Steve’s legs off his shoulder and let his hips slide down onto the mattress. “Wow.” Steve barely had time to smile up at him before he crumpled. He fell half on top of Steve but jumped off to the side almost immediately with a laughing grimace. “You’re a wreck.”

Steve looked down. Bucky’d smeared the slick mess all over Steve’s belly and chest when he’d fallen on top of him. “Geez.”

“Here.” Bucky leaned off the edge of the bed and grabbed the still-damp undershirt. At least it was better than nothing. Steve swiped at the mess, tossed the shirt back on the floor, then collapsed onto the bed again. He groped until he found Bucky’s hand and squeezed it, hard, and Bucky squeezed back as Will pushed up against Steve’s other side. Steve lifted his arm so that Will could snuggle under it.

“Why do they call it eating jam?” Bucky said.

Steve didn’t hear Will’s laughter, but he was pressed close enough that his ribcage shook against Steve’s side. “Don’t look at me,” he said. “I didn’t come up with it.”

“I don’t care what they call it,” Steve said. He tried to get his hand to Will’s hair to run his fingers through it, but he felt clumsy and slow, and the angle was all wrong.

“You liked it no matter what, huh?” Bucky nudged at Steve’s leg with his knee. “See? Learning new things.”

This time Will laughed loud enough to hear. “Glad to broaden your horizons.” Steve turned his head and caught Will’s eye. He lifted his head for a kiss, then pushed up and leaned over Steve to kiss Bucky too.

“I think I’m down for the count,” Bucky said with a sigh. “You gotta take care of Will, Steve.”

Steve looked at Bucky. “But what about you?”

Bucky’s answering smile was lazy and smug. “C’mon, you know how much I like to watch,” he said. “And I’ll help. I’m gonna tell you what to do.”

Will laughed. “Do you always follow your sergeant’s orders, captain?”

Propping himself up on one elbow, Bucky spoke before Steve had a chance: “He does when they’re good ones.”

“So do you have some good orders for him then?” Will reached out to rake his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

Bucky gave Steve a quick kiss, then leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Remember Frank’s recipes? That first one was pretty darn good.”

Frank’s name threw Steve off balance. He stole a glance at Will, who was waiting, obviously amused and unbelievably patient. “You think I should . . . ?” He let the sentence trail off, but Bucky nodded, his smile spreading. “Where’s the jam?”

Bucky turned his head vaguely, as if to look for the Vaseline, but Steve knew he’d be faster. He searched in the tangled sheets until he found it, then pressed close to Will for a kiss that quickly became tinged with memories of the night Frank kissed him: the start of surprise, the surge of elation, and a jolt of lust before Steve realized what he was doing and pulled away. Steve hid his face by planting a line of kisses over Will’s jaw and down his neck.

Steve continued the trail down Will’s body, across his chest, sucking at his nipple, then continuing down to drag his tongue through the line of hair below his navel. Frank had dark hair—nothing like the bright curls on Will’s head or even the rusty smattering here. Steve didn’t want to be thinking about Frank right now, but maybe Bucky wanted him to—why else would he have brought him up?

_Dammit, Bucky, the bed’s getting crowded_. The thought made Steve smile. Bucky always liked having lots of company around—the more the merrier. And he only brought up Frank because he liked to tease. But for now, Steve was determined to focus on Will.

Steve nudged Will’s leg aside with his elbow as he opened the jar. It was almost empty, but he scraped out enough to coat a couple of fingers. He looked up to find Will watching him, and it made him shy again, so before he started, he scrambled up for a few more kisses with Will and Bucky both.

Then Steve knelt between Will’s legs and bent low to mouth up the length of his dick, making him moan. As he closed his lips around the tip, Steve slid his slick fingers between the cheeks of his ass to rub in gentle circles—not pushing inside yet. He figured Will would have spoken up if this wasn’t something he wanted, cause it wasn’t like Steve hadn’t been obvious about the plan, but he didn’t know how much Will liked this kind of thing.

Apparently Will liked this kind of thing a lot. He let out a low moan, shifting his hips to meet Steve’s hand. When Steve pressed more firmly, Will propped one heel on Steve’s shoulder. “Good,” he said. “That’s good.”

Steve looked up. Bucky had moved closer and was thumbing Will’s nipple as he watched Steve. Will head was thrown back, and he was still making those happy noises. Steve’s dick stirred. He ducked and took Will into his mouth again. After bobbing his head a few times, he slowly pressed inside with one finger. Will hissed out a _yes _, so Steve didn’t wait long before adding a second finger. Will’s sounds got louder.__

__Bucky scooted lower on the bed and ran his hand over Steve’s back. He whispered in Steve’s ear, just as Will let out another low moan, “Old Frank sure has good ideas, huh?”_ _

__He was doing it on purpose—bringing up Frank. But he didn’t seem jealous. He just wanted to rile Steve up, and it was working. He couldn’t help but think of Frank now: the teasing look in his dark eyes, his playfulness. His insistent kisses. There was no denying he’d be wickedly fun in bed. Steve was rock hard now. He shifted, spreading his legs so he could get his free hand down and wrap it around his dick. He pushed away the thoughts of Frank, moving faster, sucking harder—he wanted to hear Will moan again._ _

__“You can fuck him if you want to,” Bucky whispered. Steve groaned around Will’s dick. With Will’s body tight and hot around his fingers, he could imagine just how it would feel. “Go ahead. I want you to.” Bucky’s lips brushed Steve’s ear. “Ask him.”_ _

__Steve lifted his head to look at Bucky. He wasn’t joking. His hand glided over Steve’s ribs. “Go on, ask him. “I bet he’d—”_ _

__Steve shook his head vehemently, shutting his eyes as if it would shut out the pictures in his mind, and sucked Will’s dick back into his mouth. But he couldn’t stop imagining it now: Will writhing beneath him, panting breaths against his neck. And he couldn’t get Frank out of his head: lean like Will. The smell of his cologne. Steve hooked his fingers to rub hard at that _particular spot_ —Frank had told him about that—and Will cried out as he came, flooding Steve’s mouth. Steve swallowed and massaged the underside of Will’s dick with his tongue. Will filled Steve’s mouth again before his whole body went limp. His leg fell off Steve’s shoulder and plopped down on the bed._ _

__Steve pushed up onto all fours and stroked himself quickly. Bucky’s fingers wrapped around his, and Steve lunged over to kiss him, fucking Bucky’s mouth with his tongue as their hands worked furiously. Steve froze, squeezing his eyes shut and coming hard._ _

__Once he caught his breath, he found himself uncomfortably twisted, lying with his forehead pressed to Bucky’s chest. Bucky’s fingers combed through his hair. Steve looked over at Will, but his eyes were closed, so Steve wriggled until he was lying on his back and turned to Bucky for a kiss._ _

__“That was good,” Bucky said, cradling the back of Steve’s neck. “Really good.”_ _

__Steve kissed him again, then turned to Will. He was smiling now, though still breathing fast. Steve gave him a quick kiss, then sat up and climbed over Bucky to get out of the bed. “Be right back.”_ _

__He used the bathroom and washed up, then leaned down to take several big gulps straight from the tap. He stuck his whole face under the water—he still felt hot all over. In the mirror, he watched the water drip off his nose. He knew he was stalling._ _

__Everything had been easy, right up to stealing those last few kisses, but now that he was out of the room, it might feel awkward going back. He almost wished he could just bed down with Bucky and sleep, though Steve felt bad for even thinking it. He had no regrets, and Will had been wonderful: fun and remarkably generous. Steve thought of Bucky’s hesitation when coming out of the bathroom earlier. He certainly didn’t want to end the evening on a note like that. So he would just have to make sure that if he walked out and found Bucky cuddled up to Will, any jealousy he felt didn’t show on his face._ _

__Steve took a deep breath, turned off the light, and opened the door a crack. When he peeked out, he could see Bucky sitting cross-legged on the bed and Will lounging back on the pillows. Bucky was telling Will a story, one Steve had heard at least a dozen times, though he’d never seen Bucky tell it naked before._ _

__“. . . sure didn’t get motion sick tonight, but he did then, and he was sore about it for years because he couldn’t be a fighter pilot, unlike some people.” Will smiled indulgently, and Bucky continued. “Though we’d waited in line for an _hour_ , and of course the thing cost twenty-five whole cents—I don’t know what that is in British, but it’s a lot to a kid.”_ _

__Will was gazing at Bucky while he talked, thoroughly charmed, and Steve really understood, all of a sudden, what Bucky’d meant before about showing off: seeing Will’s obvious admiration for Bucky made Steve feel oddly flattered and proud._ _

__“He felt awful bad about throwing up on the ride like that so what he did was he came back the next day and gave the guy a drawing. It was a really good one. A drawing he did of what the whole park looked like from up top that first eighty-six-foot drop. It was pretty beautiful, you ought to see it. And they hung it up right there like an ad.”_ _

__Bucky was having such a good time. Steve understood better now why Bucky’d wanted to do this so much, but he still couldn’t get why he seemed to be avoiding being the center of attention. Usually he _loved_ being the center of attention._ _

__After a gaping yawn, Bucky fell sideways onto the pillows next to Will and stretched his legs out. “I wonder what they did with that drawing when the park shut down that summer . . .”_ _

__Steve opened the door wide, and both Bucky and Will looked over at him. He smiled at Will, locked eyes with Bucky, and walked toward the bed. Still watching Bucky, Steve veered over to Will’s side. He leaned over, wrapped one hand around the back of Will’s neck, and gave him a lingering kiss. “Thank you.”_ _

__“So polite.” Will laughed quietly. “Thank you, as well.”_ _

__Steve looked up at Bucky. His smile had dimmed slightly—Steve hadn’t intended to make him jealous—but it brightened again when Steve caught his eye._ _

__“And you—” Steve crawled over Will’s legs, tackled Bucky flat, and kissed him. “You sometimes have good ideas.”_ _

__“I told you,” Bucky said. “Baseball in the park.”_ _

__Steve rolled off Bucky onto the far side of the bed. He hadn’t managed to make Bucky the focus of attention this go-round, but there was always the morning. And for now, he could at least be in the literal center of things. “Scoot over,” Steve said, nudging Bucky toward the middle of the bed._ _

__“What now?” Bucky asked._ _

__“Sleep now.” Steve spooned up behind Bucky. “I’m beat.”_ _

__“Oh, yeah?” Bucky elbowed Steve’s stomach gently. “Finally tired you out, huh? Took two of us to do it.”_ _

__Steve expected Will to chime in and, when he didn’t, opened his eyes to find him still propped up on the pillows. There was still a smile on his face, but it looked fixed in place. Maybe he felt a little awkward too._ _

__“Will?” Steve said. “You’re staying, right?”_ _

__Will hesitated for a beat. “If you don’t mind,” he said slowly. His gaze darted down to Bucky, who was already reaching out with one hand._ _

__He wrapped his arm around Will’s waist to pull him close as Steve tugged up the covers. “Course he’s staying.”_ _

__“All right,” Will said. “If you insist.”_ _

__Steve smiled to see him tuck himself in under Bucky’s arm. “Good night.”_ _

__“Night,” Will said, but Bucky only mumbled something incoherent, already fading._ _

__Steve craned backward to turn off the lamp on the table beside the bed and pressed up behind Bucky again. When he draped his arm over Bucky’s side, his hand came to rest on Will’s stomach. Bucky put his hand on top of Steve’s and tangled their fingers together._ _

__Steve fought against sleep. He wanted to savor this feeling: exhaustion not from illness, not even from work, but from pleasure. He wanted to talk to Bucky—to tell him how _good_ it had been, though obviously he already knew. Steve kissed the back of Bucky’s neck, settled his head on the pillow, and found that with Bucky in his arms and Will’s skin warm under their hands, giving in to that exhaustion was its own kind of pleasure._ _


	6. Chapter 6

Will woke to the most unholy cramp in his left leg. He shifted, immediately regretting the decision to open his eyes. Lord, but it was bright.

His calf was sandwiched between the bed and… another leg? He blinked.

Lifting his head, the reality of the previous evening set in and Will didn’t bother attempting to resist the satisfied grin that curled his lips. It vanished in an instant as the blood rushed back into his numb limb, accompanied by a flood of pins and needles. Will rolled off the bed, fighting the urge to swear. He silently mouthed his indignation as he limped across the room and scooped up an abandoned shirt from the floor. Perching himself in the window-seat, he arranged the fabric over his lap and hitched up his legs so that his knees were level with his chin.

It took a good few moments of vigorous calf-rubbing for the ache to fade, after which he stretched that leg out in front of him with a quiet sigh. The air in the room was warmed from the heat of three sleeping bodies and Will ran a finger in a swift horizontal line through the condensation that clustered along the single-glazing. Fat droplets raced each other down the pane, gathering momentum as they absorbed more water before hitting the sill and branching out to either side of the lip.

Will absently plucked at the shirtsleeve and wiped away the moisture before resting his head back against the wall. For a while he languidly watched dawn stretch over the rooftops, listening to the hum of cabs and the distant calls of those poor souls already out and about at this hour. Scots blood or no, he loved the city. Mountain and glen were all very well but they couldn’t hold a candle to the vibrancy of London. The unapologetic, frantic, headlong thrust of life in all its iterations.

If only there weren’t the threat of nocturnal ballistic missiles to contend with.

Will’s bitter sigh fogged the upper windowpane and he turned his attention inwards. He felt his face soften, despite rolling his neck and blinking several times just to be sure he wasn’t still asleep.

Against all rationality, Captain America was indeed conked out on the bed. Will shook his head a little, disbelief pressing him to doubt. But Steve slept like he went about doing anything else, it seemed: straightforward and honest. He’d curled towards Bucky during the night, elbows crooked across his own chest and one hand open on the pillow, knuckles loosely resting against the tangle of dark hair there.

Bucky, for his part, was sprawled diagonally across the mattress, cramp-bestowing legs akimbo. But his shoulders and neck were tight, nose buried against Steve’s raised forearm just firmly enough that Will could hear the slight hiss of his laboured breathing.

The sight of the pair of them had a lump forming in his throat. He smiled through it, grateful. They looked – not content, that was the wrong word, but… familiar, perhaps. Enmeshed. Interwoven. Twin segments of a puzzle.

Will frowned: that wasn’t quite it. He gazed over, indulging himself, and noticed the way Bucky’s fingers were draped over the point of Steve’s elbow. How Steve’s head was inclined towards Bucky’s as if the two of them were magnetised.

 _Whole_ , he thought, squinting at the curve of their bodies. They looked like… like speech marks. Like cupped hands.

Like lovers.

He rode out the wave of envy until it trickled away and left him with his residual gratitude. He’d been shown this, this glimpse of a possibility.

Will’s grin crept up on him unawares but once it’d taken hold, he couldn’t tamp it down. The memories of the previous night were already beginning to slur together into a single stripe of heat and sweat and stimulation. It felt like an injustice and Will sifted through them, urging himself to keep hold of the details. He pictured the way Steve had taken their coats, words stiff with nerves and the back of his neck as scarlet as the centre of the RAF roundel. There was something strange about this tower of a man with his broad shoulders and long limbs: something about the way he moved. He lent a slow deliberation to each action – although he _wasn’t_ slow, necessarily.

Steve’s lips around Will’s cock, one hand pinning his hips down while he worked and sucked and swallowed around it–

No, in certain respects Steve was anything but slow.

“Oh hello,” Will murmured to himself as the fabric on his lap twitched. “Back for more?” He shook his head at his own ridiculousness and his gaze caught on the arch of Bucky’s foot, carelessly resting on the bed where it poked out from the sheets rucked up around his thighs. The sight sent him sinking back into his reverie.

With Steve, the thrill had come from watching him unfurl, come out of himself bigger and surer, go from blushing over jackets to sucking Will off with a kind of breathless exhilaration that sent a wash of warmth scudding over Will’s skin from the mere remembrance. Bucky, however, was different. Something had passed between them the moment before they’d kissed, something communicated with widening eyes and an intake of breath. The man who cut across the road to approach them outside Viceroy Court, shoulders braced against a non-existent wind; the man who casually set the wheels of this encounter in motion with a flash of his quicksilver tongue; the man who set his jaw when his aim was thrown off in a friendly game of darts – _that_ man, controlled and charismatic, had hesitated for just an instant in front of _Will_.

The thought sent a spike of gratification through him, even tempered as it was with the acknowledgement of his own apprehension. Will allowed himself a smile that bordered on smug. They’d met halfway, kissing one another with caution that swiftly gave way to lust – and _that_ was the heart of the matter, with Bucky. The way he softened, melted, relaxed if only for a moment before spinning away with bright eyes to tug at Steve or fire off some wisecrack or fling Will bodily onto the bed.

 _Blimey_. Well, at least that memory would age well. It wasn’t as though he’d ever forget having the breath knocked from his lungs as he fell back against the mattress. Or, indeed, what came after. Will licked his lips, mouth dry, and let his eyes drift back over to the bed. There was an inherent peace in watching sleep, and in this case it was exacerbated by the… the breadth of these soldiers’ physical presence. They slept like babes in the wood. Large, muscular babes.

Will felt his eyelids droop and he didn’t fight it. Propping his head in the corner between the cold windowpane and the wall, he dozed for a while in the quiet. Contentment trickled through him, filtering from the crown of his head down to where his toes burrowed into the seat cushion.

Eventually there was a drowsy sigh from the vicinity of the bed, followed by a rustle of fabric. Will kept his eyes shut and listened for soft footfalls. When he peeked sidelong, Steve was standing beside him, looking out at the rooftops, completely bare and completely unabashed. Evidently he’d shed his self-consciousness a little after his clothes.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, and Will carefully craned his neck to glance up at his face.

“I slept like a log, actually.”

Steve smiled. “Good.”

There was a brief moment during which Steve’s arm spasmed and he coloured before darting a look behind him and clearly thinking better of whatever he’d been about to do. Will wondered if it was to kiss him.

“It’s quite all right,” he said, drawing both knees into his chest and gesturing at the vacant half of the seat. “Sit, please, I’m getting a cricked neck looking up at you.”

Steve did so, tucking one leg up to rest against the glass and hissing through his teeth at the chill. Settling back, he returned his gaze to the rooftop vista. They sat quietly for a while at opposite ends of the window seat, Will’s attention oscillating between the city and Steve’s expression. He’d actually opened his mouth to ask something benign about Steve’s thoughts on London when Steve broke the silence himself.

“You had fun last night, right?” He was still staring outwards. “It wasn’t, uh… different from what you thought?”

For an instant Will was floored. But never let it be said that he didn’t recover swiftly. “I think I can safely say it was better than the rest of my wartime experiences combined,” he said, and Steve turned his head to smile in relief. “Did I say anything to make you believe otherwise?”

“No,” Steve replied immediately. “No, it wasn’t that. It’s just that – well, we hadn’t done this kinda thing before and I wasn’t really sure how it was gonna go.”

“It isn’t as though there’s an etiquette guide for these kinds of liaisons.”

Steve snorted but stifled the noise with one hand, flicking another look towards the bed. “Guess not.” He kept his voice low and Will matched it with his next words.

“You two…” He gestured, hands drawing semicircles in the air. “You work well. Together, I mean.”

Steve raised an eyebrow and Will could see the amusement in his eyes. He felt his cheeks flush hot as he slapped a palm to his own forehead, grinning. “Not – that wasn’t a reference to _that_.” But his mind was already conjuring up the sensation of Steve and Bucky’s mouths alternating smoothly, the flash of Bucky’s triumphant grin when a certain trick of his tongue had Will losing any last vestige of control over his limbs.

“Teamwork,” said Steve, smirking as Will waggled a finger at him in mock reproof.

“Take your mind out of the gutter, Rogers.”

“You sound like Bucky,” Steve laughed – but then he straightened and tucked his hands together to rest them in his lap. “Okay,” he said, cocking his head, the picture of an attentive scholar, “c’mon, explain what you really meant.”

How he could succeed with the eager innocent act while naked as the day he was born, Will would never know.

“What I _meant_ ,” he continued, doing his best to sound stern and failing utterly, “was that the two of you fit. You–” he crossed his fingers and held them up “–you’re like that, to put it plainly.”

“Well, we’ve known each other since we were kids. Grew up together.” The words were warmed by a fondness that made Will’s heart feel full.

“Ye-es,” he agreed slowly. “But there’s more to it than that. The way you look at him – and the way he looks back. He’s besotted. You must know that.”

Steve ducked his head but his smile was radiant. “Yeah, I – I know.” There was something disbelieving about the way that he said it; he sounded the way Will felt every time he jumped down from the Lanc after a sortie. Solid ground beneath his boots in spite of the odds.

“So,” Will said suddenly, ignoring the return of the lump in his throat. “What was it like, growing up in New York? I’ve not been.”

“You haven’t?”  Steve looked at him with something like wonder. “You gotta go. First thing after the war ends. Come and visit us there.”

“I think my family might have one or two things to say about that,” Will began, smiling, but Steve waved dismissively.

“Not important.” He sat forwards, both elbows balanced on one crooked knee. “It’s like the center of the world. So many people, so much life. It’s – it’s the most alive place you could imagine… what’s that look for?”

Will shook his head. “Nothing, it’s just – you’re describing exactly the way I feel about London.”

“Well then,” Steve said, folding his arms and leaning back with an air of triumph. “You’d love New York.”

“I certainly like the people.”

Steve grinned wider.

“So have the two of you always been…?” Will asked delicately.

“No.” Steve’s smile didn’t fade but he reached up to rub at the back of his neck, not meeting Will’s eyes. “It’s kind of embarrassing, actually.”

“Oh yes?”

“It started the day Buck shipped out. He didn’t – well neither of us wanted him to leave, and he kissed me on the platform.”

Will felt his eyebrows rise but Steve was quick to clarify. “There was no one around. He’d pulled some strings so he could have a couple extra days.”

“So what did you do? After he kissed you, I mean.”

“I, uh… ran after the train.”

Will smothered a burst of laughter in both hands, his head knocking back against the wall. “Of _course_ you did.”

But behind the laugh there was something else. They hadn’t just grown up together, these two. They’d grown up in love, no less. Back when Steve, if the comics and Bucky’s tall tales were to be believed, was almost a foot shorter and considerably narrower. A fairytale in many ways.

Will felt his mouth twist. _Stop being bitter_ , he told himself. And if he was honest, he wasn’t bitter so much as… longing. Wistful. These two made his heart ache. It was bitter _sweet,_ rather.

Steve was chewing his lower lip now that Will’s shoulders had stopped shaking.

“So you ran after your boy all the way to war?” Will said, keeping his tone light.

Something in his words achieved its aim, because Steve shot him a small, sidelong smile and Will quirked an eyebrow at him. “What?”

Steve glanced down. “For a second there you sounded like a guy I know back home.”

He looked pensive and Will remained carefully silent to let Steve’s train of thought run itself out. He prided himself on being a decent reader of people but could make neither head nor tail of the array of emotions that passed over Steve’s face. Eventually he gave up the attempt and drew tiny spiral patterns in the condensation with one fingertip. The designs wept and bled into one another, tracking their way down the glass.

“I enjoyed it too,” Steve said suddenly. When Will looked back at him, his face was no longer shuttered. “Just so we’re clear. I know Bucky was the, uh, driving force here but I only go along with his dumb ideas if I agree with them.”

“Glad to hear it,” Will replied, feeling an odd surge of satisfaction within his breast. “You know…” He fiddled with the sleeve of the shirt in his lap, wanting to say what he meant but uncertain as to how.

“Mm-hm?”

“Well you must know why he wanted this, surely? He – and don’t misinterpret, I’m not grousing – he oriented himself around you.”

Steve opened his mouth but it stayed silent.

“What I mean is,” Will continued, sounding out the words, “he never lost focus on you. But it didn’t appear to be forced – is he always like that?”

“Yeah, actually.” Steve rubbed his knee absentmindedly, his face relaxed. “Always has my back. Even when we were kids.”

“And considerably smaller, in your case.” Will shot him an arch look and said, “Actually, there is something I’ve been wondering.”

“Yeah?”

“You, er, have extremely impressive… stamina. And you can’t expect me to believe that’s just from–”

“Vitamins,” said Steve firmly.

Will raised one sceptical brow, to which Steve responded with a wide-eyed shrug.

“Sworn to secrecy, pal.”

“Not vitamins then.”

Steve made a noncommittal noise. “I couldn’t say.”

“All right,” Will sighed, mournful. “If that’s how the matter stands. I have a cousin at Bletchley – she can’t tell me anything either.”

“Well, you might be a spy,” said Steve. He spread his hands and grinned when Will puffed out his chest indignantly. “You might! We don’t know that much about you–”

“–I beg your pardon, after the night we had you know _plenty_ about me–”

“–and it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

His grin was _wicked_ and Will longed to kiss it from his mouth. He contented himself with humming his disagreement. “Perhaps I am a spy. I know enough about inaccessible places. Nooks and crannies, you know.” The reward for that little witticism came in the form of a proper blush that suffused Steve’s cheeks and blossomed down his neck. Will sat back, pleased as punch.

“I think we’ve managed to resist your interrogations so far,” Steve said.

“Oh ho, is that right?” Will snuck a glance over to where Bucky remained prone on the bed, motionless and dead to the world. “That’s what you’d call resisting?”

Steve snorted. “He’s never been a morning kinda guy.”

“So I gather.”

“But, you know...” Steve’s eyebrow quirked and something shimmied down Will’s spine. “We could…”

He paused and Will leaned forward, mouth hanging open in an interested grin. “No, do go on.”

“We could, uh, wake him up.”

“I’m sure we can think of an agreeable wake-up call.”

Steve nodded, decisive. “We have to.” He stood and held out a hand to pull Will to his feet; the shirt slithered from Will’s lap to the floor but neither of them were watching it. Will’s breath caught in his throat. He was only human, after all, and Steve was something of a walking Adonis. Now they were upright, he had to tilt his chin to look Steve in the face, and for an instant he felt a flush of self-consciousness.

Perhaps Steve noticed, because he let his gaze wander admiringly over Will’s body and caressed the side of his head with a touch just on the right side of rough. “C’mon,” he said, voice low and thick, and Will caught a glimpse of the exuberant gleam in his eyes. They made their way over to the bed. Steve put one hand on Will’s shoulder. “Let me just…” he said, and Will replied with an acquiescent gesture.

Steve moved forward, sure and silent as a fin through water. He braced himself with arms either side of Bucky’s torso and bent down to kiss his temple, his cheek, his jawline, before pausing to mouth at his ear. “Bucky. Hey, Buck, you awake, pal?”

Bucky turned into the warmth and mumbled something indecipherable. Steve just smiled and continued to pepper the side of his face with kisses. “Wake up Buck, c’mon. It’s morning.” He pushed gently at Bucky’s shoulder to manoeuvre him onto his back, eliciting an aggrieved protest.

“Nnnghhhgonna _sleep_.”

Speech, no matter how bleary, seemed to be Will’s cue. Steve inclined his head in invitation and Will took up position on Bucky’s right-hand side, kneeling on the bed but not quite sure what to do with himself. As it turned out, Steve had no such qualms. His hands were already roaming, skimming Bucky’s chest before returning to grasp his jaw. Bucky moaned softly and began to kiss back, only for Steve to pull away.

“You with me?”

Bucky nodded, eyes still closed, but Steve glanced up at Will to let him know that the question was twofold. Will grinned at him in answer and watched Steve’s fingers trail downwards once more. He bent to apply mouth and fingers to Bucky’s nipple in the same moment as Steve’s hand slid out of sight beneath the blanket.

And Bucky – there was no other word for it, Bucky _keened_ , arching off the mattress with the most spectacular groan Will had ever heard. It was as if he’d momentarily forgotten Will’s presence: forgotten that there were _four_ spare hands here instead of two, and all of them adept at wringing these sounds from his throat. His eyes flew open and fixed on Will, who could only stare back, feeling the heave of Bucky’s chest under his palms.

But Steve’s face was exultant and that alone laid to rest any lingering doubts Will had about Bucky’s pleasure: evidently that sound he’d let out was a positive one. Shifting his weight, Steve grabbed hold of Bucky’s arms where they were tangled in the sheets and tugged them upwards until his fists were buried under the pillows. He dropped another kiss to Bucky’s parted lips and whispered, “Stay there.”

Bucky’s mouth worked for a few seconds as though his brain couldn’t spin quite fast enough to summon the retort he so desperately wanted. Then he managed to choke, “Nice – _reveille_ –” but his voice cracked on the second word as Will pulled the blanket away to give Steve better access to his dick. Steve set about sucking it with enthusiasm, and Will was happy enough to watch, idly thumbing Bucky’s chest as he did so.

But then he noticed Bucky sliding his hands out from underneath the pillows and caught his eye. There was a flash of defiance there alongside a definite challenge. Bucky jutted his chin – _wanna make something of it?_ – and Will lunged across to kiss him hot and hard. His fingers closed around Bucky’s wrists; he kept the hold gentle despite being well aware of Bucky’s physical advantage should he decide to throw Will off.

But Steve’s instruction to stay, no matter how playful, seemed to retain its effectiveness. Will drew Bucky’s tongue into his mouth and sucked, and although Bucky writhed under him, he kept his arms where they were. In kissing, however, he gave as good as he got, and Will’s arms shook until it was a struggle to keep them rigid. There was something electric about the way Bucky’s mouth felt. Plush warmth gave way to a mischievous bite at unpredictable moments.

“You know how to keep a fella on his toes,” Will murmured, pulling away just far enough to see Bucky’s grin.

“I’d rather keep him on my–” Bucky shot back instantly but Will cut him off. He parted Bucky’s lips with his tongue so he could thrust between them, and the pleased grunt he got in response vibrated in his mouth.

He drew back when Bucky made a disgruntled noise and twisted his head sideways to peer down the length of his own body. Will followed his gaze and saw that Steve had propped himself up on his elbows and was watching them both with unvarnished hunger in his eyes.

“Enjoying the view?” said Will, feeling set alight and daring.

Steve just nodded, his eyes flickering between their mouths. Then he pushed himself upright. “Swap,” he said hoarsely.

Will was more than happy to comply but his movement was interrupted by Steve’s fingers sinking into his hair, pulling him forwards until their lips met and their bodies bridged Bucky’s torso. It took Will a moment to realise that Steve tasted of Bucky, too. The thought went through him like a shock; he teased Steve’s tongue with his own, curled his fingers around the nape of his neck and gripped, smiling into it when he heard breathy swearing from below them. They kissed heatedly, heads rolling as they adjusted angles, Bucky’s attention on them rapt and unblinking.

It was Will who eventually pushed at Steve’s chest to direct him. Steve moved as though drunk, easily swaying from Will’s mouth to Bucky’s, a dazed expression slackening his face. Will tore his gaze away and hunkered down. Bucky’s cock was curved and leaking, and as he trailed his fingers from base to tip, Bucky’s whole body shuddered. Pure joy bloomed in Will’s chest and he closed his mouth around the head, his free hand pinning Bucky’s hips down. It was gratifying to discover that Bucky hadn’t softened while watching he and Steve kiss. Precisely the opposite, in fact.

Another strangled moan tore itself from Bucky’s chest, muffled somewhat by the press of Steve’s mouth. Will squinted up at them through his eyelashes, and the sight of Bucky’s exposed throat, of all things, had him suddenly achingly aware of his own erection. He slid one hand down to relieve some of the pressure, although he kept his strokes slow so as not to disrupt the rhythm he’d established with his mouth. Suckjobs were an art form, one for which Will had a tried and tested technique that he had no intention of ruining for the sake of his own gratification.

Bucky’s dick throbbed and Will pulled off with a quiet smack of release. Smirking, he raised his gaze to see Bucky staring at him, mouth hanging open and breathing ragged.

“Doing all right up there?” Will asked: mischievous, knowing full well that his words blew hot air onto tinglingly sensitive skin.

Steve was lavishing Bucky’s neck and shoulder with biting kisses; Bucky squirmed and shot Will a look that he’d bet was intended to be challenging. But there were curls of dark hair plastered to his forehead, and his cheeks were pink, which undermined the effect in its entirety.

“Just watchin’,” Bucky gasped, each word a struggle, “watchin’ you put your mouth where your–” but Steve bit down as Will licked teasingly, and Bucky gritted his way through the next word “– _m-money_ is – _fuck_ –”

The remainder of the sentence was swallowed by Steve. He and Will kissed and sucked Bucky through his orgasm until he shook all over, the thick thigh muscles under Will’s hands twitching and flexing. Somewhere along the line, Bucky’d abandoned the idea of keeping his hands in place, and they were wrapped around Steve’s neck, fingers clenched in his hair.

“Bucky,” Steve breathed, brushing Bucky’s hair back, “Bucky, you – your _face_ , God–” He kissed him over and over, wonder illuminating his own face. Will sat back on his heels, content for the moment merely to watch the two of them while he ran one hand along the length of Bucky’s thigh.

It wasn’t long before Steve remembered himself and broke away to grab Will and kiss him briefly. “Thank you,” he said, sounding as though he were about to overflow. He shuffled forwards until they were on their knees facing one another and kissed him again. “I couldn’t’ve – I mean, I – thanks.”

“My pleasure,” said Will softly, and then the moment dissipated because he felt the bed bounce as Bucky sat up, but was utterly unprepared for the feel of a hand decisively gripping his dick. The noise Will made – while not _quite_ a squeak – was close enough to have Bucky shaking the bed with his laughter. Even Steve pulled back a little, an amused glint in his eye.

“I’m never going back to alarm clocks,” Bucky said, pushing at Steve’s thighs until his knees were spread apart on the bed. Will looked up from the gentle manipulations and realised with a jolt that he and Steve were eye to eye. They caught each other’s gaze and something in Will’s stomach fluttered. Steve’s arms were slung low around him and as he shifted, his forearms came to rest solidly against the small of Will’s back. Warm firm pressure: _I want you here_.

Will swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. His hands hung like damp dishrags at his sides. But Steve thumbed the top of his hipbones, and when Will gathered himself enough to run tentative fingertips over his biceps, his smile was inviting. Dipping in, Steve pressed a kiss to the skin at the side of Will’s neck and trailed a hand upwards to thread his fingers into the curls at his nape.

Their hips were level, Bucky’s knuckles brushing against Will’s abdomen. Will hadn’t time to glance down before Steve jerked and gasped an aborted, “ _Buck_ –” while he tugged helplessly at Will’s hair.

So much power, so much muscle quivering under his eager hands. Transfixed, Will watched Steve’s jaw clench and release as his lips and cheeks flooded pink.

And then Bucky’s hand closed over Will’s dick, palm already slippery with Steve’s precome; Will relinquished a few moments to blind sensation. Drag and tug and mounting pressure – he was speaking, perhaps, but the tumble of words weren’t anything akin to coherent and it wasn’t in him to care. Steve bent his head to bite down on Will’s shoulder while Bucky snickered – distant to Will’s ears – and wrung simultaneous moans out of them both by exploiting their closeness to take them in one fist and pump.

“Yeah?” Bucky breathed, though it was hardly a sincere question – Will could _hear_ the smirk in his voice. “You like that?”

Steve groaned into Will’s skin. His grip spasmed and the pair of them swayed on the spot when Bucky picked up his pace.

“Is it not – _ah_ –” _Evident_ , Will wanted to say, but the word was obliterated somewhere amidst the flick of Bucky’s thumb and the feeling of Steve shuddering in his arms. Warmth erupted between their stomachs, and white-hot pleasure shot up Will’s spine. He had a vague, lingering idea of finishing his sentence, but Steve’s mouth was hot on his neck and Bucky’s fingers were so sure in their movements: he gulped a breath, body arching, and came with an intensity that took him by surprise.

He went limp after and dropped his forehead onto the warm bulk in front of him. Steve shifted to look round but didn’t pull away, and Will kissed his collarbone lightly.

The bedclothes rustled as Bucky flopped back on his elbows and surveyed them. “Although,” he said thoughtfully, as though his focus had never shifted from their earlier conversation, “Steve’s a bit of an alarm clock himself, see.”

Will blinked groggily and rolled his head to eye him. “How so?”

“He goes off a lot,” said Bucky fondly, brushing Steve’s arm with his big toe, “but he can go all day if you wind him up.”

Steve groaned. “Buck, it’s too _early_.”

Bucky threw up his hands. “You woke _me_ up, pal.”

“Guess we did.” Steve peeled himself away from Will with a mild sound of disgust. “We’re disgusting,” he said, bursting into laughter. He hauled himself off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. Shortly after, there was the sound of a running tap in the sink and the distant clunk of water pipes heating up. Bucky caught Will’s eye. Then he cocked his head and nodded across the room towards Steve as the flow shut off and the bathroom door creaked open.

“Catch,” he said casually – and Will turned to receive a faceful of damp cloth.

“Sorry!” cried Steve from the doorway, sounding mortified. “Sorry, I was aiming lower, I – sorry.”

Will took one look at his expression and cracked up while Bucky cackled beside him.

“Just be grateful it wasn’t his shield. We gotta work on your _aim_ , Steve.”

“Smartass,” said Steve, bounding across to the bed and flopping back down. “I did okay with the darts.”

“No harm done,” Will said, unable to resist smiling. He cleaned himself off before delicately hanging the facecloth over a bedpost. When he settled back down, Bucky was watching him and apprehension suddenly prickled his skin. “Sorry, am I outstaying my welcome?”

To his surprise, Bucky chipped in before Steve could answer. “No.” He sounded honestly startled, as though it hadn’t occurred to him that Will could possibly do such a thing.

“Not at all,” Steve agreed.

Will relaxed. It was impossible to disbelieve Steve when he spoke with such warmth. “All right then,” he said, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning back against the bedstead. “Steve was telling me about how you two started things.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah?” He rolled over and hoiked himself up on one elbow to face Steve. “What’d you tell him?”

“Only the good stuff,” Steve said mildly, and Bucky’s expression softened.

“Like how catastrophically slow you both are on the uptake,” Will added. They both turned towards him: Steve acquiescent, Bucky indignant. “The day you shipped out? A little late, perhaps?”

“I–” Bucky began, doing his best to ignore the way Steve was sniggering beside him. “Aw, shut the hell up, punk. Like you would’ve ever made a move.”

“He has a point,” said Will. “At least he _did_ something about it.”

Steve stopped laughing and clutched at his heart in shock, though any sincerity was ruined by the fact that he was beaming. “I _might_ have! I just needed–”

“More time?” Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “Ten years not enough for you?”

Will’s mouth fell open. “Ten _years?_ It was that long?”

The pair of them nodded, then turned to each other and laughed in tandem, abashed but glowing. Bucky’s face was more open than Will had yet seen it: even meticulous suckjobs didn’t lend his eyes this particular shine. In a moment of clarity, he realised how very private this moment was. How accustomed they were to tucking this out of sight. It wasn’t as though he had no experience of quietly masking who he was himself – of course he did, but this was different. These two were going _steady_.

Touched, Will opened his mouth, only to change his mind at the last second and quip, “Good grief, and they say we Britons are the repressed ones.”

Bucky’s face creased with mirth, and Steve smirked. It was wiped off his face almost instantly by a low, gurgling rumble. Bucky sat up. “I was wondering when that was gonna happen.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I get hungrier than I used to,” he said to Will. “’Cause of the–”

“The vitamins,” Will nodded earnestly and fought to keep a straight face when Steve caught his eye.

Bucky’s gaze flicked from Steve to Will and back, but then he just shrugged and swung his legs off the edge of the mattress. “Where the hell’s my shirt?”

With a jolt of guilt, Will realised he knew. He leapt from the bed and sorted through the pile of discarded clothes on the floor, trying not to make it glaringly obvious when he reached out to snatch up the shirt lying directly under the window seat. _It’s fine_ , he told himself, checking it for residual dampness. _It’s still clean, after all_. “Here,” he said, tossing it over.

Bucky caught it one-handed. “Thanks.”

It was trickier than getting undressed but considerably less tense. They were more at ease now, and at any rate they had to stop every few minutes to hunt for underwear or stray socks, which worked wonders for dispelling any potential awkwardness.

“Your plans for the rest of your furlough,” said Will, pulling on his trousers. “Are they equally as exhilarating as this was?”

Steve snorted incredulously, but Bucky paused with one arm in and one out of his undershirt. “I dunno,” he said. “Shakespeare was pretty exhilarating.” But he cracked a smile, and Will chucked one of the window seat cushions at him; it glanced off his shoulder. Bucky gave it a disparaging look.

“What Shakespeare did you see?”

“Not the original one,” Bucky explained seriously. “He’s dead, you know.”

“Gosh, if the news is that delayed in America, no wonder you joined the war when you did.”

The cushion was thrown back and hit Will square on the nose.

“We saw _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ ,” said Steve, holding a single sock in one hand and blithely looking around for the other. “Do you know it?”

“What do you take me for?” Will retorted, instantly flashing back to his school days of memorised verse. “Hang on, let me see…” He cast his mind back and unconsciously stood a little straighter. Then he recited: “ _If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended: that you have but slumber'd here, while these visions did appear_.”

Partway through, the peculiar aptness of the verse struck him, and he wavered on _slumber’d_ in a manner that would have had his old tutor tutting at him. Once he stopped, however, he realised that he’d been speaking into unbroken silence: Steve and Bucky had both stilled to listen.

Bucky blinked, cleared his throat and sat down heavily on the side of the bed to pull on his socks. “Yeah. That’s it.”

“Well done,” Steve commented, mirroring Bucky’s position on the other side of the mattress.

Will busied himself with his shirt buttons. “I was Oberon at school once,” he said. “Always wished I’d been Puck.” He let the silence linger for a careful moment before adding, “I _did_ play Juliet though,” and allowed himself a fleeting rush of pride when Bucky snorted.

“Oh yeah? Did you have a wig?”

“No, but I had a gown.”

Bucky clutched at his abdomen and shook with laughter; Will grinned at him before continuing, “With _tassels_.”

Bucky thumped the bed and curled in on himself, wheezing. Steve glanced over his shoulder and raised an amused eyebrow.

“Actually,” said Will, more softly. “Kissing Romeo was probably my, er, moment of revelation in that department. An all-boys production, you know, out of necessity at my school. Still, I don’t suppose it’s too much to hope that I won’t meet a similar fate.”

“Just gotta be careful,” said Steve.

“And don’t die,” Bucky said, more forcefully.

Will thought hard about daggers and poison and put Focke-Wulfs and doodlebugs out of his head. “I’ll do my best,” he said.

Steve, fully dressed, crossed the room to retrieve the cushion and set it neatly back where it belonged. “Would you have breakfast with us?” he asked suddenly.

Pausing in the act of smoothing down his unruly hair, Will hesitated. “I don’t want to, um…” he began, but he’d said _outstay my welcome_ once already that morning and he felt like a broken record.

“You don’t _have_ to,” Bucky piped up from the bathroom, toothbrush in hand. “But it’d be fun. You can tell us about the land of kilts and, uh, haggis?” He swung back inside and there was the splash of water before he reappeared, wiping his mouth.

“We-ell,” said Will, drawing out the word in an attempt to hide how moved he was, “there’s a Lyons just down the road that was still standing last time I checked. They do a pretty decent breakfast. The best fry-ups this side of Hadrian’s wall, even if they _are_ a little threadbare these days.”

“ _Yes_ ,” said Steve fervently. Then he grimaced. “But I gotta brush my teeth first.”

Wil ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth, wishing he’d thought to bring a toothbrush. The next instant he realised how ridiculous that would have been.

“What’re you thinking?” Bucky demanded, the gleam of his eyes visible from where he now stood in front of the little mirror, hands buried in his hair.

“Nothing of interest,” Will said lightly. He ran fingertips over his chin: that at least was rectifiable. “Just wondering whether I could borrow a razor.”

“Use mine.” Steve leaned against the doorframe, drying his face with a towel. “You can, uh, use my toothbrush too. If you want.”

Will nodded, surprised but grateful. “Thank you.”

“His is the blue one,” Bucky added without turning round.

In the bathroom, Will gripped the basin and stared hard at his reflection. He inhaled – slowly, deeply – and let it out so gradually that he fogged the glass. Then, as the little patch of condensation faded, he cracked a sudden, wide, breathless smile.

By the time he emerged, Steve had taken their outerwear from the wardrobe and laid it on the bed: little mounds of olive and khaki and taupe all bundled together. Bucky hadn’t moved from his spot but was craning his head from side to side, one eyebrow raised critically and his left arm outstretched, comb poised in his hand. Steve shot Will a fondly exasperated glance and pressed up behind Bucky, arms snaking around his waist.

“You almost done?”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky replied, pulling a face at himself and raising a hand to rake his parting over to the other side. “Just lemme fix this.”

“Buck,” Steve sighed into the back of his neck. “’m _hungry_.”

Bucky’s intent expression twitched slightly, but his hands didn’t cease in their task. Will perched on the edge of the bed and watched as he ran the comb through a few more times before following it up with his fingers. Then he twisted it to deftly separate a few strands, softening the look. “Now c’mon,” he said, admiring the effect, “you gotta admit you appreciate this.”

“Not as much as I’d appreciate breakfast.”

Bucky turned in Steve’s arms, horrified, brandishing the comb like a weapon. Steve just dipped forward to kiss his nose, which scrunched up in mock irritation. Bucky huffed and wriggled around to cast one last glance in the mirror. “Look,” he said, face contorting as Steve resisted, “I just – Will, tell him.”

In truth, Will was so amused listening to them that he had to remind himself that he really was present. “Early morning suckjobs do play havoc with your hair,” he agreed, while Steve flashed him a look of betrayal over Bucky’s shoulder.

“Yeah!” Bucky finally freed himself, folded his arms and grinned in triumph. “I mean, it was great, but it messed up the _look_ , Steve.”

Steve stared him down. “I’ll consider that next time you want one.”

Will burst out laughing and Bucky’s mouth fell open. A single step and he was back in Steve’s space, slinging one arm around his shoulders and yanking him into a kiss so fiery that Will’s laughter evaporated on the spot. He clutched blindly at the bedstead, but the cold line of metal against his palm didn’t help in the slightest.

“Okay,” Bucky muttered, low and breathy against Steve’s mouth, “I guess you win that round.”

“I always win,” Steve reminded him, the smug curl of his lips a blatant invitation. But Bucky was already looking at Will, beckoning him over, drawing him in. Will went to them gladly; he knew that this was a farewell in kind.

“You should kiss him,” Bucky said, nodding towards Steve. His fingers drummed lightly at the base of Will’s back. “Seein’ as how he always wins.”

“Well, if you insist,” Will replied, and he put a hand on Steve’s cheek. Steve leaned down but it seemed to take him an age to reach Will’s mouth. His skin was warm with arousal and soft from shaving cream, and Will kissed him warm and soft too, tender gratitude blending with the press of his lips. Steve kept his eyes closed for a moment after they parted ways.

Bucky watched them. It was different now, though – more guarded. Will looked him in the eye and it was almost as if he was back at school, watching the curtain drop and the lights flare back up in the auditorium. At the time, he couldn’t have pinpointed the feeling of loss in his chest. He realised only afterwards that all he wanted was one last glimpse at the players.

Whatever the reason now, he reached out and cupped Bucky’s face: an echo of the way he’d just held Steve. Bucky swallowed and his eyes went wide – and there it was, just a hint of the vulnerability Will now knew lurked behind the triplicate barriers of sergeant, sniper, soldier. He kissed Bucky as gently as he had Steve, and Bucky’s quiet exhale tickled his cheek.

As he drew away, the atmosphere shifted, dropping back into ease.

“Well,” said Will, grasping for it. “This certainly wasn’t how I’d pictured my two weeks’ leave panning out.”

Bucky’s reply was as sure as ever. “Us neither,” he said with a pointed look at Steve, who laughed. Bucky spread his arms wide, appealing to Will. “Back me up here. It was a pretty damn amazing idea, you gotta admit.”

“I’ve heard worse ones.”

Bucky flicked his gaze towards Steve. “See?”

“Sure, Buck,” Steve said with a long-suffering air, though his eyes were dancing. “I guess everyone’s allowed _one_ bright idea in their lifetime.” He laughed as Bucky swatted at him indignantly. Turning the full beam of his happiness onto Will, Steve dived forward to squeeze the breath out of him. “Thank you,” he said in Will’s ear. “Really. _Thank_ you.”

It was without a doubt the most sincere hug of Will’s life. And despite Bucky’s half-hearted, “Aw, Steve, not _now_ ,” Will found himself lost for words when Steve released him.

Bucky saved them, tossing Will his flying jacket from the bed. Will slung it over his shoulder, dangling the heavy leather from his fingertips, and Bucky circled round to Steve’s side. “Thought you were hungry?”

“I forget. It was so long ago. I _think_ I was waiting for some jerk to tear himself away from the mirror.”

Bucky bumped into Will’s shoulder. “He gets grouchy when he doesn’t get fed.”

“So does he,” Steve said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “He just won’t admit it.” He opened the door and Bucky huffed and shoved him through, tugging Will after them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stripy would just like it to be known that during the writing of this chapter, she accidentally wrote "sockjob" rather than "suckjob" and almost fell off her bed laughing. That is all.


End file.
